Podcast appearances and mentions of Fernando Pessoa

Dan, Manny, & Billy invite friend & fan of the pod Meghan P. Nolan to put the 1985 action/adventure comedy The Goonies to the ultimate test—THE NOSTALGIA TEST! “I had this epiphany while I was watching it this time where I was like, ‘Holy shit! Like Goonies are just like a bunch of nerds, they're all just sitting around playing D&D, Mikey is the dungeon master, and this is their quest.” -Meghan P. Nolan Around 2 years ago, Meghan sent us a suggestion to put The Goonies to the ultimate test and because Dan is super lazy it took him this long to get her on the pod. This episode is off the rails from the start filled with classic Nostalgia Test drops and a live Zoom audience of one, (haha! it's a start) Courtney from the Fiction Fixation Podcast who added some hilarious ideas while Billy dealt with his North Carolina internet service. The gang talks about “Goonies” comes from their town name The Goon Docks, what did the parents of these kids do to get all their houses foreclosed on, why was Troy and his flunkies hanging around a wishing well, are the Fratellis really Italian, and who was resetting One Eyed Willie's booby traps in the 1600s. They also analyze all the amazing characters, unpack the stereotypes, plot holes, and put Cindy Lauper's song to a quick Nostalgia Test. Most importantly, they talk about the real heroes of this movie Rosalita and Sloth. This episode is what The Nostalgia Test is all about, laughter, hot takes, and a bunch of hypothetical scenarios for what a Goonies sequel or TV series might look like. This is a must-listen for any fan of 80s classics. Email us (thenostalgiatest@gmail.com) your thoughts, opinions, and questions about this episode or anything else nostalgic on your mind and we'll read it for next time on the pod!   APPROXIMATE RUN OF SHOW: 00:00 Introduction to the Nostalgia Test Podcast 00:45 Welcoming the Hosts and Guest 01:15 Discussing The Goonies and Nostalgia 02:10 The Goonies' Cultural Impact 04:08 Analyzing Characters and Stereotypes 10:07 Plot Holes and Funny Observations 15:47 The Goonies' Opening Scene and PG Rating 26:51 Music and Product Placement in The Goonies 30:41 Kids' Reactions to The Goonies 31:36 Comparing The Goonies to Other 80s Movies 33:35 Modern Movie Music and Final Thoughts 36:06 Revisiting 'The Goonies': Childhood Memories and Cable TV 37:03 Tree Climbing Adventures and Childhood Mischief 38:24 The Goonies' Treasure Hunt Begins 39:03 Decoding the Pirate Map and Family Dynamics 40:27 The Goonies' Quest: Booby Traps and Town Secrets 42:19 Character Dynamics and 80s Stereotypes 50:14 The Fratelli Family: Villains or Victims? 52:21 Sloth: The Unlikely Hero 56:21 The Goonies' Final Adventure: Treasure and Triumph 01:10:35 Nostalgic Jail Cell Memories 01:11:02 The Idiot Mob in Astoria 01:11:42 Chunk's Hilarious Car Encounter 01:12:22 Goonies Theme Park and Escape Room Ideas 01:14:21 Mikey's Iconic Speech 01:16:02 Speculating on the Goonies Sequel 01:22:25 The Goonies' Legacy and Trivia 01:34:56 Final Thoughts and Nostalgia Test   Meghan P. Nolan, MFA, MA, PhD, is an Associate Professor of English and Chair of the Honors program at State University of New York, Rockland. She is a recipient of the SUNY Chancellor's Award for Excellence in Teaching. She is a multi-genre writer, who focuses on(Neo-)Victorian and Modern literature/ crime writing and fragmented perceptions of self-hood through academic works, fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. Her book The Crossroads of Crime Writing: Unseen Structures and Uncertain Spaces was published by Anthem Press (March 2024). She is the author of the poetry collection, Stratification (2008) and her poems have been in many literary journals over the years. Recently, her works have been on public display as a part of the “Writing on the Walls” exhibits at the Hudson Valley Museum of Contemporary Art (HVMOCA) and she regularly performs her poetry and monologues as a part of productions by both Studio Theater in Exile and Tutti Bravi respectively. Her works have appeared in Approaches to Teaching the Works of Fernando Pessoa (2025), Mean Streets (2021), Persona Studies (2021 and 2015), Transnational Crime Fiction: Mobility, Borders, and Detection (2020), Exquisite Corpse: Studio Art-Based Writing in the Academy (2019), The 100 Greatest Detectives (2018), and Thread (2017). For more info visit mpnolan.com.  Order Meghan's book The Crossroads of Crime Writing: Unseen Structures and Uncertain Spaces at Barnes & Nobel & Amazon   Book The Nostalgia Test Podcast Bring The Nostalgia Test Podcast's high energy fun and comedy on your podcast, to host your themed parties & special events!  The Nostalgia Test Podcast will create an unforgettable Nostalgic experience for any occasion because we are the party! We are the most dedicated guests! We bring it 100% of the time! Email us at thenostalgiatest@gmail.com or fill out the form at this link. LET'S GET NOSTALGIC!     Keep up with all things The Nostalgia Test Podcast on Instagram | Substack | Discord | TikTok | Bluesky | YouTube | Facebook   The intro and outro music ('Neon Attack 80s') is by Emanmusic. The Lithology Brewing ad music ("Red, White, Black, & Blue") is by PEG and the Rejected

Neste episódio, a Isabel apresenta dois feriados portugueses da semana: o 10 de junho, dia de Portugal, de Camões e das Comunidades Portuguesas; e o 13 de junho, dia de Santo António. No final do programa, fala-se um pouco de Fernando Pessoa, um dos melhores poetas portugueses. Um programa repleto de excelente poesia portuguesa.

Este bosque tiene el placer de entrevistar, aprender, charlar con una investigadora, doctora en biología, Manuela Salvado, profesora de secundaria en un instituto, el Fernando de Rojas de Salamanca, que ha recibido, junto a sus alumn@s, el Premio Internacional de Europa y Asia en el programa @Globe de la NASA.La investigación trata sobre el preocupante tema de la contaminación por plásticos. Con la energía de aprender para mejorar, sin traumatizarnos, nos facilitará conocimientos y herramientas para mejorar nuestra salud y la del planeta, conseguir una vida más amable y prevenir problemas futuros. Conceptos como plastisfera, plasticosis y plastistonas son importantes a la hora de, entre tod@s, remediar fallos del sistema de producción y de nuestro consumo.Todo empezó con una caseta meteorológica que había en un centro educativo, 15 euros, un poco de creatividad y mucha vocación investigadora, docente y divulgativa.Nos ilustran la propia Manuela Salvado, Carro de combate, Arantza Leal Nebot, Joaquín Araújo, Fernando Pessoa y Raúl Alcanduerca.Club de la Hojarasca: Álvaro Soto, Marta Iraeta, María Taosa, Virginia Díaz, Pilar Socorro, José Manuel Sebastián Campo y Carolina Alba. Inspiración musical: Armand Amar y su BSO del documental "Home".Escuchar audio

Assim com o outro, anterior, que narrei O Que Há em Mim é Sobretudo Cansaço, este também me chamou a atenção.Não sei se é anterior ou posterior, mas creio que ambos dialogam na questão do CANSAÇO da vida, das coisas. Até mesmo as mais belas como a voz que ele escuta e vê DELA.Então, segue mais um de Álvaro de Campos (Fernando Pessoa) para vocês.Quem souber me dizer a ordem de cada um deles, eu agradeço e muito.Que vocês curtam!Produzido, editado, narrado e interpretado por Carlos Eduardo ValenteDesenho da capa encontrado na internet, sem citar a fonte, trabalhado e produzido como capa para este conteúdo por Carlos Eduardo ValenteMúsica de fundo, Acordes de Violão, produzido e executado por Caio MullerSe vc quiser apoiar esse projeto, acesse:https://apoia.se/carloseduardovalente Pode apoiar também através de um PIXcarlao50@gmail.com Inscreva-se em nosso canal do YouTube:https://youtube.com/c/CarlosEduardoValenteSeja membro deste canal e ganhe benefícios: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwJXedn6y5AKKKksevSa_Ug/join

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"Fields are greener in their description than they are in their actual greenness." - Fernando Pessoa "Yes, we want to clarify the stories that are keeping us separate and maybe causing harm for ourselves and others. That doesn't mean that we don't need stories that support community that keep us in touch with ancestors that help us make meaning of the world. I think Pessoa is talking about the power of our descriptive faculty, our imagination to make meaning of greenfield that we experience. So I want to lift up both of those aspects of stories." "I started thinking about what is the power of community at this moment, when there are so many forces that are driving us to isolation and being siloed. I enter into a situation with my own description of "the field" in a community like this where we share an intention, and I can have that description of the field bounce up and open up to your descriptions of the field. Simultaneously in those moments, I am shown how I create my own world and I can feel like the suffering of my own grasping onto my idea of the field. There's also a relief and wonder in the realization that I'm involved intimately involved in the creation and expression of worlds. And then collectively, I can imagine there's a field of possibility that gets plugged into the context of a community like this. That feels really necessary and powerful at this moment." Texts referred to: Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet. Genjokoan text from Dogen Zenji Recorded at Millerton Zendo in Millerton NY on April 6, 2025. The BZC Podcast is offered free of charge and made possible by the donations we receive. You can donate to Brooklyn Zen Center at brooklynzen.org under ‘Giving.' Thank you for your generosity!

Regresamos al genio portugués.

Books that took us a long time to finish. Why? We are not really sure. They were not doorstoppers, but yet, we started these books a while back and only finally managed to finish them now for this episode. If you are looking for incentives to finish that book you have also started months or years ago, or if you are a fan of extended metaphors, then this episode is for you. Books mentioned on this episode: The Old Woman with the Knife by Gu Byeong-mo, translated by Chi-Young Kim, BloNote by Tablo, and The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa, translated by Margaret Jull Costa.

Es mayo. Joder el estrés. La única gran superproducción de BBC para la que tiene tiempo El Criticón de La Cultureta Gran Reserva tengo son todas esas Bodas, Bautizos y Comuniones que afloran por doquier. Siluetas que entran y salen de las iglesias, se tiran arroz, salmos, bendisiones, arrepentimientos, perdones misericordes y propósitos de enmienda. Siente que es el momento perfecto para conectar con su propia espiritualidad. Ha llegado el tiempo autoimpuesto de la introspección. De eso va la pieza de esta semana. Recomendación de la semana 1: ‘Tiempo de reír', canción estupenda de Pedro Guerra ft Andrés Calamaro. Recomendación de la semana 2: ‘El libro del desasosiego' de Fernando Pessoa. 

Es mayo. Joder el estrés. La única gran superproducción de BBC para la que tiene tiempo El Criticón de La Cultureta Gran Reserva tengo son todas esas Bodas, Bautizos y Comuniones que afloran por doquier. Siluetas que entran y salen de las iglesias, se tiran arroz, salmos, bendisiones, arrepentimientos, perdones misericordes y propósitos de enmienda. Siente que es el momento perfecto para conectar con su propia espiritualidad. Ha llegado el tiempo autoimpuesto de la introspección. De eso va la pieza de esta semana. Recomendación de la semana 1: ‘Tiempo de reír', canción estupenda de Pedro Guerra ft Andrés Calamaro. Recomendación de la semana 2: ‘El libro del desasosiego' de Fernando Pessoa. 

Es mayo. Joder el estrés. La única gran superproducción de BBC para la que tiene tiempo El Criticón de La Cultureta Gran Reserva tengo son todas esas Bodas, Bautizos y Comuniones que afloran por doquier. Siluetas que entran y salen de las iglesias, se tiran arroz, salmos, bendisiones, arrepentimientos, perdones misericordes y propósitos de enmienda. Siente que es el momento perfecto para conectar con su propia espiritualidad. Ha llegado el tiempo autoimpuesto de la introspección. De eso va la pieza de esta semana. Recomendación de la semana 1: ‘Tiempo de reír', canción estupenda de Pedro Guerra ft Andrés Calamaro. Recomendación de la semana 2: ‘El libro del desasosiego' de Fernando Pessoa. 

Aujourd’hui, Clotilde Seille nous amène au Portugal à travers des auteurs prestigieux tels que José Saramago ou encore Fernando Pessoa : L’intranquillité,  écrit par Fernando Pessoa et lu par François Marthouret Fernando Pessoa x Hélio Cicero,  écrit par Fernando Pessoa et lu par Hélio Cicero Lisbonne revisitée,  écrit par Fernando Pessoa et lu par Richard…

Fase confessional de Fernando Pessoa, trecho do Livro do Desassossego, trás uma reflexão sobre nosso pensamento insignificante, o quão nos torna igualmente insignificante. Escute o episódio da semana. Obrigado.

O coreógrafo brasileiro Volmir Cordeiro apresentou o espectáculo “Outrar” na Ménagerie de Verre, em Paris, no âmbito do festival "Les Inaccoutumés". A peça surgiu de um convite da coreógrafa Lia Rodrigues, em 2021, em tempos de pandemia e é uma resposta ao confinamento a que o mundo foi confrontado e aos muros que continuam a erguer-se. Dançar passa a ser uma forma de se “outrar” - um neologismo criado por Fernando Pessoa para se “tornar outro” - mas também passa a ser uma ponte para quebrar barreiras e se chegar a tantos outros. Foi no festival “Les Inaccoutumés” que Volmir Cordeiro apresentou o espectáculo “Outrar”, a 3, 4 e 5 de Abril, na Ménagerie de Verre, em Paris. O solo de 30 minutos foi criado em 2021 a partir de um convite da coreógrafa brasileira Lia Rodrigues e em resposta ao confinamento provocado pela pandemia de covid-19. Lia Rodrigues enviou uma carta aos seus bailarinos quando o mundo estava confinado e isolado. Volmir Cordeiro respondeu com este solo que se transformou numa ponte entre continentes, mas também numa ponte para os outros - os que o vêem e os que o habitam dentro de si. São os seus “heterónimos” que se manifestam nas dezenas de camadas de roupas, de cores e de texturas e que se declinam em múltiplos gestos, movimentos e emoções. Os seus “outros” inspiram-se em Fernando Pessoa e o título da peça - “Outrar” - também aí vai beber. Esses “outros” são, ainda, uma alegoria dos estados da Terra, do planeta feliz e despreocupado ao planeta que ameaça colapsar. Foi por aí que começámos a conversa, no final do espectáculo, numa sexta-feira, na Ménagerie de Verre, em Paris.RFI: O que conta o espectáculo “Outrar”?Volmir Cordeiro, Coreógrafo e bailarino: “Este espectáculo parte de uma ideia que seria aquela de como é que eu poderia personificar a Terra, como é que eu poderia imaginar a Terra como uma pessoa, a Terra de hoje e a Terra tal como ela estava no momento da pandemia porque este projecto nasce durante o confinamento.Então, a questão da Terra, a questão do isolamento, foi muito importante e porque ela também parte da trilha sonora, que tem essa camada bastante cavernosa de uma gruta, que me deu muito essa imagem do que a gente estava vivendo naquele momento do confinamento e tudo o que a gente inventava dentro de um quadrado, dentro das nossas casas.Eu decidi que estava dentro de um quadrado e eu tinha essa ideia de ser a Terra, a Terra doente, a Terra feliz, a Terra que ainda dá para salvar, que ainda pode ser salva, a Terra florida, a Terra fértil, a Terra “clown”, a Terra palhaça, a Terra que precisa de ajuda. Eu fui imaginando várias versões dessa Terra que eu ia encarnando.”A Terra é personificada por si?“É. Eu seria esse desejo, esse desejo de chegar grande, chegar caminhando, caminhando nesse chão que está estável por enquanto, mas que está tremendo porque essa vibração do som coloca o chão, o espaço a tremer. Esse instante quase que precede o colapso, essa ideia que a gente tinha de como é que a gente vai sair da pandemia, para onde é que a gente vai, qual é que vai ser a continuidade do mundo, como é que a gente vai mudar as nossas relações com a vida, com a natureza, connosco mesmos, para podermos continuar a existir.Como a trilha sonora é cheia de variações, cheia de pássaros, cheia de crianças brincando, cheia de vidro quebrando, ela tem um monte de imagens que me foram alimentando e que têm essa ideia de 'outrar', de se transformar em outro. Por isso é que eu fui juntando camadas de figurinos, de saia, de roupa, de pijama, de cuecas, de tudo que eu encontrava, para também trazer essa ideia de que a Terra é feita de todos nós, é feita de vários elementos, de vários outros e que, portanto, dentro desse quadrado, dentro dessa dança, eu tinha que ficar eu mesmo outrando.”Já vamos ao conceito de “outrar”, mas ainda em relação a si como Terra, o Volmir entra em palco ao som de uma tempestade e entra de uma forma muito vertical, como uma árvore que é abanada por essa tempestade. Vive imensas coisas pelo meio e, a dada altura, cai por terra despido. Que gesto é este? “Acho que tem totalmente essa ideia do desmoronamento. A ideia de chegar grande e festivo no vento, no carnaval, na festa, num grande desejo de modificação, num grande entusiasmo de colocar as pessoas que me estão a ver para também se imaginarem ali dentro, para se olharem, olhando o que eu estou fazendo e se verem no outro também - por isso, há este dispositivo de estar um de frente para o outro.Tem essa transformação porque eu precisava 'outrar' também na minha figura global, essa figura não podia terminar assim, ela tinha que virar como a gente vira uma luva, como a gente vira uma meia do avesso. Ela tinha que virar do avesso para dar a ideia de que ela teria que viver uma transformação ali, diante do público. E ela se transforma nessa sereia que está muito perto do chão, que está esmagada, que está talvez nos últimos instantes da própria vida, mas que ainda carrega uma ideia de sublime, uma ideia de beleza e que ainda assim está pedindo ajuda e está procurando pelo outro. É o último chamado pelo outro, esse gesto de procurar, de pedir a esmola, de entregar alguma coisa, de se dirigir para o outro.Então, para mim tem essa coisa desses outros que também vão-se amarrando em nós e que a gente está cheio de outros até ao ponto em que eu vou tirando as minhas camadas, vou-me transformando nessa sereia, mas essa sereia também vai-me impedindo de andar, vai-me impedindo de dançar, vai-me impedindo de me movimentar. O destino final é ir para o chão e ao ir para o chão, ela existe ali no que ela pode fazer naquela nova condição.”É por isso que chamou ao espetáculo “Outrar”? O que quer dizer, para si, “outrar”? “Outrar foi o nome que a Lia Rodrigues deu para o projecto dentro da pandemia porque ela não podia estar aqui na Europa para apresentar um trabalho, não podia fazer a viagem. Então, ela convocou alguns bailarinos que já tinham trabalhado com ela, que estão morando aqui, para ir no lugar dela. Foi ela que deu esse nome a partir de um poema de Fernando Pessoa -eu não sei exactamente qual é o poema, mas vem dele esse neologismo. E já era uma maneira de 'outrar', não era ela, era outro que estava no lugar dela. Foi ela que mandou essa trilha sonora e falou: 'Usem a trilha sonora e faça o que vocês quiserem'. Eu, como estou sempre carregado de figurinos em casa, pensei: 'Bom, para outrar eu vou ter que achar um jeito de criar múltiplos, de criar uma imagem de muitos...”Heterónimos?“Heterónimos, exacto, que seria essa saia, essa calça, esse pijama. Então, fui juntando coisas que eu já tinha de outras peças e quando cheguei no estúdio, eu tinha uma semana e meia para fazer isso, foi muito rápido, e decidi fazer essa figura que está carregada, que é densa e virou essa cebola. Eu chamo muito essa figura de uma cebola viva porque ela está cheia de camadas e o nó dela, o umbigo dela, o centro dela, se confunde com a periferia. Então, é por isso que é como se eu tivesse ali dentro uma interioridade vibrando, pulsando, e é por isso que ela tem que ser revelada também no final. Eu tenho que descascar a cebola, então vou tirando as minhas camadas e ela de cebola vira uma sereia.”O problema é que quando descascamos uma cebola, ficamos a chorar. Em tempos de extremismos, de polarizações políticas, esta peça, este “outrar” tem também algum significado político? “Tem sobretudo, para mim, uma vontade muito grande de valorizar o discurso e a potência do artista. Eu acho que é uma das coisas que eu mais sinto ameaçadas. Ameaçada hoje neste contexto, falando da questão da arte em si. Acho que a primeira coisa que eu queria lembrar é de a gente poder renovar o espaço de encontro e de uma imaginação forte que a gente pode ter quando a gente está em contextos artísticos, quando a gente se reúne para assistir uma peça de 30 minutos e que a gente testemunha de uma transformação. Acho que essa é a primeira camada que eu gostaria de salientar.A segunda é lembrar a tragédia em que está o nosso mundo. Eu acho que quando entro para dançar, eu venho carregado dessa tragédia que é essa tragédia do fascismo, que é essa tragédia do corte do orçamento para a cultura, que é essa vontade de ir para Marte explorar, essa vontade de carro voador, esse delírio do homem, do patriarcado virilista de querer sempre mais, essa ganância. Eu estou fazendo tudo com os trapos, com as roupas que eu encontrei para construir uma figura que vem para lembrar a gente do que a gente precisa, talvez das coisas mais básicas que é vestir, comer, dormir, deitar, sentar, olhar para o outro, dançar, festejar, voltar um pouco para as nossas acções mais básicas e eu acho que a dança é uma ferramenta essencial para isso e pouquíssimo valorizada.”Pode falar-nos um pouco mais da sua colaboração com a Lia Rodrigues? Como é que surgiu o convite? “Eu trabalhei com a Lia entre 2008 e 2011,  dos meus 21 aos meus 24 anos, foi um processo muito marcante na minha vida e isso resultou numa relação muito querida, muito gostosa, muito actualizada também. A gente está sempre em conexão, sempre conversando, sempre trocando. É uma presença que ficou muito marcante na minha vida.Acho que as coisas que a gente faz muito jovem são muito determinantes nas nossas vidas. Eu vi a Lia quando tinha 14 anos, lá no interior de Santa Catarina, lá num lugar perdido no fundo do Brasil, no sul do Brasil, eu vi o trabalho da Lia e a partir dali eu quis dançar com ela. Então, depois de ter visto o trabalho com 14 anos, eu entrei na companhia dela com 21 anos. Com 24, deixei a companhia dela para vir morar na França e estudar na França.”E desde então vive em Paris?“E desde então estou aqui. Este trabalho é de 2021, então foi quase dez anos depois que a gente voltou a colaborar através dessa ideia do Outrar, que foi um encontro feito dessa natureza, diante de um contexto pandémico: “Eu não posso ir. Você iria no meu lugar?” Então ela manteve o projecto também, que era uma coisa importante para a sobrevivência da companhia dela. Eu fui lá e criei um projecto a partir da trilha sonora que ela me mandou.”Ou seja, em vez de fechar, o confinamento, para si, abriu qualquer coisa. E para ela também…“Sim, eu estava fazendo um outro projecto no meio desse caminho e este projecto foi como um sopro de fazer alguma coisa nesse estado da pandemia, que era um estado onde a gente não tinha mais a capacidade de antecipar as coisas, que na França tudo é muito antecipado, tudo é muito programado, tudo é muito articulado, com muita antecedência. E nesse momento na nossa vida não estava muito para se programar. A gente não sabia nem quando a gente ia parar de estar confinado, quando a gente ia voltar a sair de casa, as regras mudavam a toda a hora. Então, apareceu essa oportunidade que veio assim como um sopro mesmo. Eu apanhei isso, agarrei isso com muito carinho, muito desejo e com muita espontaneidade. Tipo: 'O que eu tenho em casa? O que eu posso fazer hoje?' Esse vocabulário corporal eu estava trabalhando já em algum momento para fazer essas outras peças , eu metabolizei isso de um jeito e virou este trabalho.”É autor de um ensaio sobre figuras da marginalidade na dança contemporânea, intitulado “Ex-corpo”. Que figuras são estas e até que ponto é que se inscreve nessa linhagem? “Esse livro é uma tese que eu defendi na [Universidade] Paris VIII, uma tese que estava muito voltada para uma ideia de analisar peças que marcaram a minha vida de espectador e que me impulsionaram a entrar na dança. Não são peças com as quais eu construiria necessariamente uma relação de filiação, mas uma relação de afinidade. Peças como Luiz de Abreu, “O Samba do Crioulo Doido”, peças do Marcelo Evelin, “Batucada”, “De repente fica tudo preto de gente”, a peça da Micheline Torres “Histórias de Pessoas e Lugares”.São peças que marcaram a minha vida e são peças que, de alguma forma, estão abordando o que é hoje em dia colocar em cena, como é que a dança contemporânea acolhe um corpo negro, acolhe a questão do corpo migrante, acolhe os movimentos de massa, os movimentos de insurreição. Eu estava interessado nessa força da subversão daquilo que está instituído como marginalizado e que aparece justamente num contexto que permite que a gente mude a nossa maneira de receber a marginalidade, que mude a nossa maneira de conceber o corpo do outro, até que ponto o nosso corpo está submetido a um olhar que vem designá-lo como um corpo marginalizado. Então, são esses processos que me interessam. Esses artistas são artistas muito importantes na minha história. Eu quis analisar como é que eles se interessam ao público, como é que eles se vestem para entrar em cena, como é que eles organizam a dramaturgia, como é que eles passam de uma cena para outra. São artistas muito inspiradores para mim, assim como a Lia.Eu acho que eu estudei não na tentativa de tentar imitá-los - mas que a imitação é uma coisa muito típica da dança e quando a gente imita, a gente também se auto-imita, imita coisas de nós mesmos que a gente talvez desconheça até. Mas eu acho que o lugar deste livro foi mais de conhecer, de aprender como é que essas pessoas que tanto me marcaram fazem, como é que eu posso estudá-las para entender como é que eu faço também. Porque às vezes eu faço muitas coisas que eu não sei exactamente o que eu estou fazendo. Eu reclamo e reivindico muito essa parte inconsciente do trabalho.”

O coreógrafo brasileiro Volmir Cordeiro apresentou o espectáculo “Outrar” na Ménagerie de Verre, em Paris, no âmbito do festival "Les Inaccoutumés". A peça surgiu de um convite da coreógrafa Lia Rodrigues, em 2021, em tempos de pandemia e é uma resposta ao confinamento a que o mundo foi confrontado e aos muros que continuam a erguer-se. Dançar passa a ser uma forma de se “outrar” - um neologismo criado por Fernando Pessoa para se “tornar outro” - mas também passa a ser uma ponte para quebrar barreiras e se chegar a tantos outros. Foi no festival “Les Inaccoutumés” que Volmir Cordeiro apresentou o espectáculo “Outrar”, a 3, 4 e 5 de Abril, na Ménagerie de Verre, em Paris. O solo de 30 minutos foi criado em 2021 a partir de um convite da coreógrafa brasileira Lia Rodrigues e em resposta ao confinamento provocado pela pandemia de covid-19. Lia Rodrigues enviou uma carta aos seus bailarinos quando o mundo estava confinado e isolado. Volmir Cordeiro respondeu com este solo que se transformou numa ponte entre continentes, mas também numa ponte para os outros - os que o vêem e os que o habitam dentro de si. São os seus “heterónimos” que se manifestam nas dezenas de camadas de roupas, de cores e de texturas e que se declinam em múltiplos gestos, movimentos e emoções. Os seus “outros” inspiram-se em Fernando Pessoa e o título da peça - “Outrar” - também aí vai beber. Esses “outros” são, ainda, uma alegoria dos estados da Terra, do planeta feliz e despreocupado ao planeta que ameaça colapsar. Foi por aí que começámos a conversa, no final do espectáculo, numa sexta-feira, na Ménagerie de Verre, em Paris.RFI: O que conta o espectáculo “Outrar”?Volmir Cordeiro, Coreógrafo e bailarino: “Este espectáculo parte de uma ideia que seria aquela de como é que eu poderia personificar a Terra, como é que eu poderia imaginar a Terra como uma pessoa, a Terra de hoje e a Terra tal como ela estava no momento da pandemia porque este projecto nasce durante o confinamento.Então, a questão da Terra, a questão do isolamento, foi muito importante e porque ela também parte da trilha sonora, que tem essa camada bastante cavernosa de uma gruta, que me deu muito essa imagem do que a gente estava vivendo naquele momento do confinamento e tudo o que a gente inventava dentro de um quadrado, dentro das nossas casas.Eu decidi que estava dentro de um quadrado e eu tinha essa ideia de ser a Terra, a Terra doente, a Terra feliz, a Terra que ainda dá para salvar, que ainda pode ser salva, a Terra florida, a Terra fértil, a Terra “clown”, a Terra palhaça, a Terra que precisa de ajuda. Eu fui imaginando várias versões dessa Terra que eu ia encarnando.”A Terra é personificada por si?“É. Eu seria esse desejo, esse desejo de chegar grande, chegar caminhando, caminhando nesse chão que está estável por enquanto, mas que está tremendo porque essa vibração do som coloca o chão, o espaço a tremer. Esse instante quase que precede o colapso, essa ideia que a gente tinha de como é que a gente vai sair da pandemia, para onde é que a gente vai, qual é que vai ser a continuidade do mundo, como é que a gente vai mudar as nossas relações com a vida, com a natureza, connosco mesmos, para podermos continuar a existir.Como a trilha sonora é cheia de variações, cheia de pássaros, cheia de crianças brincando, cheia de vidro quebrando, ela tem um monte de imagens que me foram alimentando e que têm essa ideia de 'outrar', de se transformar em outro. Por isso é que eu fui juntando camadas de figurinos, de saia, de roupa, de pijama, de cuecas, de tudo que eu encontrava, para também trazer essa ideia de que a Terra é feita de todos nós, é feita de vários elementos, de vários outros e que, portanto, dentro desse quadrado, dentro dessa dança, eu tinha que ficar eu mesmo outrando.”Já vamos ao conceito de “outrar”, mas ainda em relação a si como Terra, o Volmir entra em palco ao som de uma tempestade e entra de uma forma muito vertical, como uma árvore que é abanada por essa tempestade. Vive imensas coisas pelo meio e, a dada altura, cai por terra despido. Que gesto é este? “Acho que tem totalmente essa ideia do desmoronamento. A ideia de chegar grande e festivo no vento, no carnaval, na festa, num grande desejo de modificação, num grande entusiasmo de colocar as pessoas que me estão a ver para também se imaginarem ali dentro, para se olharem, olhando o que eu estou fazendo e se verem no outro também - por isso, há este dispositivo de estar um de frente para o outro.Tem essa transformação porque eu precisava 'outrar' também na minha figura global, essa figura não podia terminar assim, ela tinha que virar como a gente vira uma luva, como a gente vira uma meia do avesso. Ela tinha que virar do avesso para dar a ideia de que ela teria que viver uma transformação ali, diante do público. E ela se transforma nessa sereia que está muito perto do chão, que está esmagada, que está talvez nos últimos instantes da própria vida, mas que ainda carrega uma ideia de sublime, uma ideia de beleza e que ainda assim está pedindo ajuda e está procurando pelo outro. É o último chamado pelo outro, esse gesto de procurar, de pedir a esmola, de entregar alguma coisa, de se dirigir para o outro.Então, para mim tem essa coisa desses outros que também vão-se amarrando em nós e que a gente está cheio de outros até ao ponto em que eu vou tirando as minhas camadas, vou-me transformando nessa sereia, mas essa sereia também vai-me impedindo de andar, vai-me impedindo de dançar, vai-me impedindo de me movimentar. O destino final é ir para o chão e ao ir para o chão, ela existe ali no que ela pode fazer naquela nova condição.”É por isso que chamou ao espetáculo “Outrar”? O que quer dizer, para si, “outrar”? “Outrar foi o nome que a Lia Rodrigues deu para o projecto dentro da pandemia porque ela não podia estar aqui na Europa para apresentar um trabalho, não podia fazer a viagem. Então, ela convocou alguns bailarinos que já tinham trabalhado com ela, que estão morando aqui, para ir no lugar dela. Foi ela que deu esse nome a partir de um poema de Fernando Pessoa -eu não sei exactamente qual é o poema, mas vem dele esse neologismo. E já era uma maneira de 'outrar', não era ela, era outro que estava no lugar dela. Foi ela que mandou essa trilha sonora e falou: 'Usem a trilha sonora e faça o que vocês quiserem'. Eu, como estou sempre carregado de figurinos em casa, pensei: 'Bom, para outrar eu vou ter que achar um jeito de criar múltiplos, de criar uma imagem de muitos...”Heterónimos?“Heterónimos, exacto, que seria essa saia, essa calça, esse pijama. Então, fui juntando coisas que eu já tinha de outras peças e quando cheguei no estúdio, eu tinha uma semana e meia para fazer isso, foi muito rápido, e decidi fazer essa figura que está carregada, que é densa e virou essa cebola. Eu chamo muito essa figura de uma cebola viva porque ela está cheia de camadas e o nó dela, o umbigo dela, o centro dela, se confunde com a periferia. Então, é por isso que é como se eu tivesse ali dentro uma interioridade vibrando, pulsando, e é por isso que ela tem que ser revelada também no final. Eu tenho que descascar a cebola, então vou tirando as minhas camadas e ela de cebola vira uma sereia.”O problema é que quando descascamos uma cebola, ficamos a chorar. Em tempos de extremismos, de polarizações políticas, esta peça, este “outrar” tem também algum significado político? “Tem sobretudo, para mim, uma vontade muito grande de valorizar o discurso e a potência do artista. Eu acho que é uma das coisas que eu mais sinto ameaçadas. Ameaçada hoje neste contexto, falando da questão da arte em si. Acho que a primeira coisa que eu queria lembrar é de a gente poder renovar o espaço de encontro e de uma imaginação forte que a gente pode ter quando a gente está em contextos artísticos, quando a gente se reúne para assistir uma peça de 30 minutos e que a gente testemunha de uma transformação. Acho que essa é a primeira camada que eu gostaria de salientar.A segunda é lembrar a tragédia em que está o nosso mundo. Eu acho que quando entro para dançar, eu venho carregado dessa tragédia que é essa tragédia do fascismo, que é essa tragédia do corte do orçamento para a cultura, que é essa vontade de ir para Marte explorar, essa vontade de carro voador, esse delírio do homem, do patriarcado virilista de querer sempre mais, essa ganância. Eu estou fazendo tudo com os trapos, com as roupas que eu encontrei para construir uma figura que vem para lembrar a gente do que a gente precisa, talvez das coisas mais básicas que é vestir, comer, dormir, deitar, sentar, olhar para o outro, dançar, festejar, voltar um pouco para as nossas acções mais básicas e eu acho que a dança é uma ferramenta essencial para isso e pouquíssimo valorizada.”Pode falar-nos um pouco mais da sua colaboração com a Lia Rodrigues? Como é que surgiu o convite? “Eu trabalhei com a Lia entre 2008 e 2011,  dos meus 21 aos meus 24 anos, foi um processo muito marcante na minha vida e isso resultou numa relação muito querida, muito gostosa, muito actualizada também. A gente está sempre em conexão, sempre conversando, sempre trocando. É uma presença que ficou muito marcante na minha vida.Acho que as coisas que a gente faz muito jovem são muito determinantes nas nossas vidas. Eu vi a Lia quando tinha 14 anos, lá no interior de Santa Catarina, lá num lugar perdido no fundo do Brasil, no sul do Brasil, eu vi o trabalho da Lia e a partir dali eu quis dançar com ela. Então, depois de ter visto o trabalho com 14 anos, eu entrei na companhia dela com 21 anos. Com 24, deixei a companhia dela para vir morar na França e estudar na França.”E desde então vive em Paris?“E desde então estou aqui. Este trabalho é de 2021, então foi quase dez anos depois que a gente voltou a colaborar através dessa ideia do Outrar, que foi um encontro feito dessa natureza, diante de um contexto pandémico: “Eu não posso ir. Você iria no meu lugar?” Então ela manteve o projecto também, que era uma coisa importante para a sobrevivência da companhia dela. Eu fui lá e criei um projecto a partir da trilha sonora que ela me mandou.”Ou seja, em vez de fechar, o confinamento, para si, abriu qualquer coisa. E para ela também…“Sim, eu estava fazendo um outro projecto no meio desse caminho e este projecto foi como um sopro de fazer alguma coisa nesse estado da pandemia, que era um estado onde a gente não tinha mais a capacidade de antecipar as coisas, que na França tudo é muito antecipado, tudo é muito programado, tudo é muito articulado, com muita antecedência. E nesse momento na nossa vida não estava muito para se programar. A gente não sabia nem quando a gente ia parar de estar confinado, quando a gente ia voltar a sair de casa, as regras mudavam a toda a hora. Então, apareceu essa oportunidade que veio assim como um sopro mesmo. Eu apanhei isso, agarrei isso com muito carinho, muito desejo e com muita espontaneidade. Tipo: 'O que eu tenho em casa? O que eu posso fazer hoje?' Esse vocabulário corporal eu estava trabalhando já em algum momento para fazer essas outras peças , eu metabolizei isso de um jeito e virou este trabalho.”É autor de um ensaio sobre figuras da marginalidade na dança contemporânea, intitulado “Ex-corpo”. Que figuras são estas e até que ponto é que se inscreve nessa linhagem? “Esse livro é uma tese que eu defendi na [Universidade] Paris VIII, uma tese que estava muito voltada para uma ideia de analisar peças que marcaram a minha vida de espectador e que me impulsionaram a entrar na dança. Não são peças com as quais eu construiria necessariamente uma relação de filiação, mas uma relação de afinidade. Peças como Luiz de Abreu, “O Samba do Crioulo Doido”, peças do Marcelo Evelin, “Batucada”, “De repente fica tudo preto de gente”, a peça da Micheline Torres “Histórias de Pessoas e Lugares”.São peças que marcaram a minha vida e são peças que, de alguma forma, estão abordando o que é hoje em dia colocar em cena, como é que a dança contemporânea acolhe um corpo negro, acolhe a questão do corpo migrante, acolhe os movimentos de massa, os movimentos de insurreição. Eu estava interessado nessa força da subversão daquilo que está instituído como marginalizado e que aparece justamente num contexto que permite que a gente mude a nossa maneira de receber a marginalidade, que mude a nossa maneira de conceber o corpo do outro, até que ponto o nosso corpo está submetido a um olhar que vem designá-lo como um corpo marginalizado. Então, são esses processos que me interessam. Esses artistas são artistas muito importantes na minha história. Eu quis analisar como é que eles se interessam ao público, como é que eles se vestem para entrar em cena, como é que eles organizam a dramaturgia, como é que eles passam de uma cena para outra. São artistas muito inspiradores para mim, assim como a Lia.Eu acho que eu estudei não na tentativa de tentar imitá-los - mas que a imitação é uma coisa muito típica da dança e quando a gente imita, a gente também se auto-imita, imita coisas de nós mesmos que a gente talvez desconheça até. Mas eu acho que o lugar deste livro foi mais de conhecer, de aprender como é que essas pessoas que tanto me marcaram fazem, como é que eu posso estudá-las para entender como é que eu faço também. Porque às vezes eu faço muitas coisas que eu não sei exactamente o que eu estou fazendo. Eu reclamo e reivindico muito essa parte inconsciente do trabalho.”

Regresamos a uno de los más grandes escritores portugueses.

Ajudante de guarda-livros em Lisboa, Bernardo Soares é um dos heterônimos de Fernando Pessoa, sendo considerado por muitos um “semi-heterônimo”, dada sua proximidade com o próprio autor. Em seu Livro do Desassossego, Bernardo Soares descreve como conheceu Pessoa: em uma casa de pasto que frequentavam, onde apresentou sua obra. O livro, escrito em fragmentos, narra sua vida e reflexões sobre a cidade, si mesmo e o mundo, e é considerado uma das obras fundadoras da ficção portuguesa do século XX. O livro foi publicado pela primeira vez apenas na década de 1980, cinco décadas após a morte de Pessoa.Para falar sobre Bernardo Soares e seu Livro do Desassossego, nossa colaboradora Daleth Costa conversa com o professor Luis Maffei. Sobre o convidado:Luiz Maffei é Professor de Literatura Portuguesa da Universidade Federal Fluminense. Bolsista em Produtividade do CNPq, PQ 2, desde 2018. Bolsista Jovem Cientista de Nosso Estado - FAPERJ, entre 2015 e 2017. Possui graduação em Letras pela Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro (1999), mestrado (2003) e doutorado (2007) em Literatura Portuguesa pela mesma instituição - neste último, apresentou a tese DO MUNDO DE HERBERTO HELDER.Veja na versão em vídeo aqui:https://youtube.com/live/9q2TtzJNMzg

After enjoying her new book Open Socrates so much (and having written about her previous book Aspiration in Second Act), I was delighted to talk to Agnes Callard, not least because, as she discusses in Open Socrates, she is a big Tolstoy admirer. We talked about Master and Man, one of my favourite Tolstoy stories, but also about the value of reading fiction, the relationship between fiction and a thought experiment, and other topics of related interest. George Eliot makes an appearance too. In the discussion about the use of fiction in philosophy classes, I was slightly shocked to hear about how much (or how little) reading her undergraduates are prepared to do, but I was interested that they love Pessoa. Agnes has previously written that the purpose of art is to show us evil. Here is Agnes on Twitter. Transcript below, may contain errors!I found this especially interesting.Exactly, and I mean, 10 seconds, that's a wild exaggeration. So do you know what the actual number is? No. On average. Okay, the average amount of time that you're allowed to wait before responding to something I say is two tenths of a second, which, it's crazy, isn't it? Which, that amount of time is not enough time for, that is a one second pause is an awkward pause, okay? So two tenths of a second is not long enough time for the signal that comes at the end of my talking, so the last sound I make, let's say, to reach your ears and then get into your brain and be processed, and then you figure out what you want to say. It's not enough time, which means you're making a prediction. That's what you're doing when I'm talking. You're making a prediction about when I'm going to stop talking, and you're so good at it that you're on almost every time. You're a little worse over Zoom. Zoom screws us up a little bit, right? But this is like what our brains are built to do. This is what we're super good at, is kind of like interacting, and I think it's really important that it be a genuine interaction. That's what I'm coming to see, is that we learn best from each other when we can interact, and it's not obvious that there are those same interaction possibilities by way of text at the moment, right? I'm not saying there couldn't be, but at the moment, we rely on the fact that we have all these channels open to us. Interestingly, it's the lag time on the phone, like if we were talking just by phone, is about the same. So we're so good at this, we don't need the visual information. That's why I said phone is also face-to-face. I think phone's okay, even though a lot of our informational stream is being cut. We're on target in terms of the quick responses, and there's some way in which what happens in that circumstance is we become a unit. We become a unit of thinking together, and if we're texting each other and each of us gets to ponder our response and all that, it becomes dissociated.Transcript (AI generated)Henry: Today, I am talking to Agnes Callard, professor of philosophy at the University of Chicago, author of Aspiration, and now most recently, Open Socrates. But to begin with, we are going to talk about Tolstoy. Hello, Agnes: .Agnes: Hello.Henry: Shall we talk about Master of Man first?Agnes: Yeah, absolutely.Henry: So this is one of Tolstoy's late stories. I think it's from 1895. So he's quite old. He's working on What is Art? He's in what some people think is his crazy period. And I thought it would be interesting to talk about because you write a lot in Open Socrates about Tolstoy's midlife crisis, for want of a better word. Yeah. So what did you think?Agnes: So I think it's sort of a novel, a story about almost like a kind of fantasy of how a midlife crisis could go if it all went perfectly. Namely, there's this guy, Brekhunov, is that his name? And he is, you know, a landowner and he's well off and aristocratic. And he is selfish and only cares about his money. And the story is just, he takes this, you know, servant of his out to, he wants to go buy a forest and he wants to get there first before anyone else. And so he insists on going into this blizzard and he gets these opportunities to opt out of this plan. And he keeps turning them down. And eventually, you know, they end up kind of in the middle of the blizzard. And at kind of the last moment, when his servant is about to freeze to death, he throws himself on top of the servant and sacrifices himself for the servant. And the reason why it seems like a fantasy is it's like, it's like a guy whose life has a lacuna in it where, you know, where meaning is supposed to be. And he starts to get an inkling of the sort of terror of that as they're spending more and more time in the storm. And his initial response is like to try to basically abandon the servant and go out and continue to get to this forest. But eventually he like, it's like he achieves, he achieves the conquest of meaning through this heroic act of self-sacrifice that is itself kind of like an epiphany, like a fully fulfilling epiphany. He's like in tears and he's happy. He dies happy in this act of self-sacrifice. And the fantasy part of it is like, none of it ever has to get examined too carefully. It doesn't like, his thought doesn't need to be subjected to philosophical scrutiny because it's just this, this one momentary glorious kind of profusion of love. And then it all ends.Henry: So the difficult question is answered the moment it is asked. Exactly, exactly, right?Agnes: It's sort of, it's, I see it as like a counterpart to the death of Ivan Ilyich.Henry: Tell me, tell me more.Agnes: Well, in the death of Ivan Ilyich, the questions surface for even, you know, when death shows up for him. And he suddenly starts to realize, wait a minute, I've lived my whole life basically in the way that Brekhunov did. Basically in the way that Brekhunov does as, you know, pursuing money, trying to be a socially successful person. What was the point of all that? And he finds himself unable to answer it. And he finds himself, it's the exact opposite. He becomes very alienated from his wife and his daughter, I think.Henry: Yeah.Agnes: And the absence of an answer manifests as this absence of connection to anyone, except an old manservant who like lifts up his legs and that's the one relief that he gets. And, you know, it's mostly in the gesture of like someone who will sacrifice themselves for another. Right, that's once again where sort of meaning will show up for a Tolstoy, if it ever will show up in a kind of direct and unashamed way.Henry: Right, the exercise of human compassion is like a running theme for him. Like if you can get to that, things are going great. Otherwise you've really screwed up.Agnes: Yeah, that's like Tolstoy's deus ex machina is the sudden act of compassion.Henry: Right, right. But you think this is unphilosophical?Agnes: I think it's got its toe in philosophical waters and sort of not much more than that. And it's in a way that makes it quite philosophical in the sense that there's a kind of awareness of like a deep puzzle that is kind of like at the heart of existence. Like there's a sensitivity to that in Tolstoy that's part of what makes him a great writer. But there's not much faith in the prospect of sort of working that through rationally. It's mostly something we just got a gesture at.Henry: But he does think the question can be answered. Like this is what he shares with you, right? He does think that when you're confronted with the question, he's like, it's okay. There is an answer and it is a true answer. We don't just have to make some, he's like, I've had the truth for you.Agnes: Yes, I think that that's right. But I think that like the true answer that he comes to is it's compassion and it's sort of religiously flavored compassion, right? I mean, that it's important. It's not just. Yeah, it's a very Christian conclusion. Right, but the part that's important there in a way, even if it's not being Christian, but that it's being religious in the sense of, yes, this is the answer. But if you ask for too much explanation as to what the answer is, it's not going to be the right answer. But if you ask for too much explanation as to why it's the answer, you're going the wrong way. That is, it's gotta, part of the way in which it's the answer is by faith.Henry: Or revelation.Agnes: Or, right, faith, exactly. But like, but it's not your task to search and use your rational faculties to find the answer.Henry: I wonder though, because one of the things Tolstoy is doing is he's putting us in the position of the searcher. So I read this, I'm trying to go through like all of Tolstoy at the moment, which is obviously not, it's not currently happening, but I'm doing a lot of it. And I think basically everything in Tolstoy is the quest for death, right? Literature is always about quests. And he's saying these characters are all on a quest to have a good death. And they come very early or very late to this. So Pierre comes very early to this realization, right? Which is why he's like the great Tolstoy hero, master of man, Ivan Ilyich, they come very, and Tolstoy is like, wow, they really get in under the wire. They nearly missed, this is terrible. And all the way through this story, Tolstoy is giving us the means to see what's really going on in the symbolism and in all the biblical references, which maybe is harder for us because we don't know our Bible, like we're not all hearing our Bible every week, whereas for Tolstoy's readers, it's different. But I think he's putting us in the position of the searcher all the time. And he is staging two sides of the argument through these two characters. And when they get to the village and Vasily, he meets the horse thief and the horse thief's like, oh, my friend. And then they go and see the family and the family mirrors them. And Tolstoy's like, he's like, as soon as you can see this, as soon as you can work this out, you can find the truth. But if you're just reading the story for a story, I'm going to have to catch you at the end. And you're going to have to have the revelation and be like, oh my God, it's a whole, oh, it's a whole thing. Okay, I thought they were just having a journey in the snow. And I think he does that a lot, right? That's, I think that's why people love War and Peace because we go on Pierre's journey so much. And we can recognize that like, people's lives have, a lot of people's lives happen like that. Like Pierre's always like half thinking the question through and then half like, oh, there's another question. And then thinking that one through and then, oh, no, wait, there's another question. And I think maybe Tolstoy is very pragmatic. Like that's as philosophical as most people are going to get. Pierre is in some ways the realistic ideal.Agnes: I mean, Pierre is very similar to Tolstoy just in this respect that there's a specific like moment or two in his life where, he basically has Tolstoy's crisis. That is he confronts these big questions and Tolstoy describes it as like, there was a screw in his head that had got loose and he kept turning it, but it kept, it was like stripped. And so no matter when you turned it, it didn't go. It didn't grab into anything. And what happens eventually is like, oh, he learns to have a good conventional home life. Like, and like not, don't ask yourself these hard questions. They'll screw you up. And I mean, it's not exactly compassion, but it's something close to that. The way things sort of work out in War and Peace. And I guess I think that you're sort of right that Tolstoy is having us figure something out for ourselves. And in that way, you could say we're on a journey. There's a question, why? Why does he have us do that? Why not just tell us? Why have it figured out for ourselves? And one reason might be because he doesn't know, that he doesn't know what he wants to tell us. And so you got to have them figure out for themselves. And I think that that is actually part of the answer here. And it's even maybe part of what it is to be a genius as a writer is to be able to write from this place of not really having the answers, but still be able to help other people find them.Henry: You don't think it's, he wants to tell us to be Christians and to believe in God and to take this like.Agnes: Absolutely, he wants to tell us that. And in spite of that, he's a great writer. If that were all he was achieving, he'd be boring like other writers who just want to do that and just do that.Henry: But you're saying there's something additional than that, that is even mysterious to Tolstoy maybe.Agnes: Yeah.Henry: Did you find that additional mystery in Master in Man or do you see that more in the big novels?Agnes: I see it the most in Death of Ivan Ilyich. But I think it's true, like in Anna Karenina, I can feel Tolstoy being pulled back and forth between on the one hand, just a straight out moralistic condemnation of Anna. And of, there are the good guys in this story, Levine and Kitty, and then there's this like evil woman. And then actually being seduced by her charms at certain moments. And it's the fact that he is still susceptible to her and to the seductions of her charms, even though that's not the moral of the story, it's not the official lesson. There's like, he can't help but say more than what the official lesson is supposed to be. And yeah, I think if he were just, I think he makes the same estimation of himself that I am making in terms of saying, look, he finds most of his own art wanting, right? In what is art? Because it's insufficiently moralistic basically, or it's doing too much else besides being, he's still pretty moralistic. I mean, even War and Peace, even Anna Karenina, he's moralistic even in those texts, but his artistry outstrips his moralism. And that's why we're attracted to him, I think. If he were able to control himself as a writer and to be the novelist that he describes as his ideal in what is art, I don't think we would be so interested in reading it.Henry: And where do you see, you said you saw it in Ivan Ilyich as well.Agnes: Yes, so I think in Ivan Ilyich, it is in the fact that there actually is no deus ex machina in Ivan Ilyich. It's not resolved. I mean, you get this little bit of relation to the servant, but basically Ivan Ilyich is like the closest that Tolstoy comes to just like full confrontation with the potential meaninglessness of human existence. There's something incredibly courageous about it as a text.Henry: So what do you think about the bit at the end where he says he was looking for his earlier accustomed fear of death, but he couldn't find it. Where was death? What death? There was no fear whatsoever because there was no death. Instead of death, there was light. Suddenly he said, oh, that's it, oh bliss.Agnes: Okay, fair enough. I'd like forgotten that.Henry: Oh, okay. Well, so my feeling is that like you're more right. So my official thing is like, I don't agree with that, but I actually think you're more right than I think because to me that feels a bit at the end like he saw the light and he, okay, we got him right under the line, it's fine. And actually the bulk of the story just isn't, it's leading up to that. And it's the very Christian in all its imagery and symbolism, but it's interesting that this, when it's, this is adapted into films like Ikiru and there was a British one recently, there's just nothing about God. There's nothing about seeing the light. They're just very, very secular. They strip this into something totally different. And I'm a little bit of a grumpy. I'm like, well, that's not what Tolstoy was doing, but also it is what he was doing. I mean, you can't deny it, right? The interpreters are, they're seeing something and maybe he was so uncomfortable with that. That's why he wrote what is art.Agnes: Yeah, and that's the, I like that. I like that hypothesis. And right, I think it's like, I sort of ignore those last few lines because I'm like, ah, he copped out at the very end, but he's done the important, he's done the important, the important work, I think, is for instance, the scene with, even on his wife, where they part on the worst possible terms with just hatred, you know, like just pure hatred for the fact that she's forcing him to pretend that he isn't dying. Like that is like the profound moment.Henry: What I always remember is they're playing cards in the other room. And he's sitting there, he's lying there thinking about like the office politics and curtain, like what curtain fabrics we have to pick out and the like, his intense hatred of the triviality of life. And I love this because I think there's something, like a midlife crisis is a bit like being an adolescent in that you go through all these weird changes and you start to wonder like, who am I? What is my life? When you're an adolescent, you're told that's great. You should go ahead and you should, yes, lean into that. And when you're like in your forties, people are going, well, try and just put a lid on that. That's not a good idea. Whereas Tolstoy has the adolescent fury of like curtains and cards. Oh my, you know, you can feel the rage of his midlife crisis in some of that seemingly mundane description. Yeah. I think that's what we respond to, right? That like his hatred in a way.Agnes: Yeah. I mean, maybe we, many of us just have trouble taking ourselves as seriously as Tolstoy was able to, you know? And that's something, there's something glorious about that, that anyone else would listen to the people around them telling him, hey, don't worry, you're a great guy. Look, you wrote these important novels. You're a hero of the Russian people. You've got this wife, you're an aristocrat. You've got this family, you've got your affairs. I mean, come on, you've got everything a man could want. Just be happy with it all, you know? Many of us might be like, yeah, okay, I'm being silly. And Tolstoy is like, no one's going to tell me that I'm silly. Like I'm the one who's going to tell myself, if anything. And that kind of confidence is, you know, why he's sort of not willing to dismiss this thought.Henry: Yeah, yeah, interesting. So how do you think of Master and Man in relation to all the others? Because you know Tolstoy pretty well. You teach him a lot. How do you place it? Like how good do you think it is?Agnes: I don't teach him a lot. I'm trying to think if I ever taught Tolstoy.Henry: Oh, I'm sorry. I thought I read that you had.Agnes: I've taught The Death of Ivan Ilyich. That's the one, I have taught that one. I wish, I mean, I would love to teach. I just can't imagine assigning any of these novels in a philosophy, my students wouldn't read it.Henry: They wouldn't read it?Agnes: No.Henry: Why?Agnes: It's pretty hard to get people to read long texts. And I mean, some of them certainly would, okay, for sure. But if I'm, you know, in a philosophy class where you'd have to kind of have pretty high numbers of page assignments per class, if we're going to, I mean, you know, forget War and Peace. I mean, even like Ivan Ilyich is going to be pushing it to assign it for one class. I've learned to shorten my reading assignments because students more and more, they're not in the habit of reading. And so I got to think, okay, what is the minimum that I can assign them that where I can predict that they will do it? Anyway, I'm going to be pushing that next year in a class I'm teaching. I normally, you know, I assign fiction in some of my classes but that's very much not a thing that most philosophers do. And I have to sign it alongside, you know, but so it's not only the fiction they're reading, they're also reading philosophical texts. And anyway, yeah, no, so I have not done much, but I have done in a class on death, I did assign Ivan Ilyich. I don't tend to think very much about the question, what is the level of quality of a work of art?Henry: Well, as in, all I mean is like, how does it compare for you to the other Tolstoy you've read?Agnes: I, so the question that I tend to ask myself is like, what can I learn from it or how much can I learn? Not, it's not because I don't think the question of, the other one is a good one. I just think I trust other people's judgment more than mine unlike artistic quality. And I guess I think it's not as good as Death of Ivan Ilyich and I kind of can't see, like, it's like, what do I learn from it that I don't learn from Death of Ivan Ilyich? Which is like a question that I ask myself. And, there's a way in which that like that little final move, maybe when I'm reading Death of Ivan Ilyich, I can ignore that little final bit and here I can't ignore it. Tolstoy made it impossible for me to ignore in this story. So that's maybe the advantage of this story. Tolstoy makes his move more overt and more dominating of the narrative.Henry: Yeah, I think also, I've known people who read Ivan Ilyich and not really see that it's very Christian. Yeah, oh yeah.Agnes: I don't think I- Much less.Henry: Yeah.Agnes: That's what I'm doing. I'm erasing that from the story.Henry: But that's like much less possible with this one. I agree.Agnes: Right, exactly. That's sort of what I mean is that- Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's like, here the message is more overt. And so therefore I think it's actually a pretty important story in that way. Like, let's say for understanding Tolstoy. That is, if you were to try to take your view of Tolstoy and base it on Death of Ivan Ilyich, which sometimes I do in my own head, because it's occupied such an important place for me, then this is a good way to temper that.Henry: Yeah, they make a nice pairing. Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Let's pick up on this question about philosophers and fiction because you write about that in Open Socrates. You say, great fiction allows us to explore what we otherwise look away from. So it makes questions askable, but then you say only in relation to fictional characters, which you think is a limitation. Are you drawing too hard of a line between fictional characters and real people? Like if someone said, oh, we found out, we were in the archives, Ivan Ilyich, he didn't, it's not fiction. He was just a friend, just happened to a friend, basically word for word. He just did the work to make it kind of look okay for a novel, but basically it's just real. Would that really change very much?Agnes: I think it wouldn't, no. So it might change a little bit, but not that much. So maybe the point, maybe a better thing I could have said there is other people. That is one thing that fictional people are is resolutely other. There's no chance you're going to meet them. And like they are, part of what it is for them to be fictional is that, there isn't even a possible world in which you meet them because metaphysically what they are is the kind of thing that can't ever interact with you. And, like the possible world in which I run into Ivan and Ivan Ilyich is the world in which he's not a Tolstoy character anymore. He's not a character in a novel, obviously, because we're both real people. So I think it's that there's a kind of safety in proving the life of somebody who is not in any way a part of your life.Henry: The counter argument, which novelists would make is that if you gave some kind of philosophical propositional argument about death, about what it means to die, a lot of people just wouldn't, they'd like, maybe they'd understand what you're saying, but it just wouldn't affect them very much. Whereas if they've read Ivan Ilyich, this will actually affect them. I don't want to say it'll resonate with them, but you know what I mean. It will catch them in some way and they're more likely then to see something in their own life and be like, oh my God, I'm appreciating what Ivan Ilyich was telling me. Whereas, this is the argument, right? The statistics of social science, the propositions of philosophy, this just never gets through to people.Agnes: Yeah, so one way to put this is, novelists are fans of epiphanies. I mean, some novelists, like Tolstoy, it's quite explicit. You just get these epiphanies, right? Like in this story, epiphany. James Joyce, I mean, he's like master of every story in Dubliners, epiphany. Novelists have this fantasy that people's lives are changed in a sudden moment when they have a passionate, oh, I just read this story and I'm so happy about it. And I don't actually doubt that these things happen, these epiphanies, that is people have these passionate realizations. I don't know how stable they are. Like they may have a passionate realization and then, maybe it's a little bit the novelist's fantasy to say you have the passionate realization and everything is changed. In this story, we get around that problem because he dies, right? So, that, I don't know. I somehow am now James Joyce. I don't know. I somehow am now James Joyce is in my head. The final story in Dubliners is the dead. And there's this like, amazing, I don't know who read the story.Henry: Yeah, yeah. Also with snow, right?Agnes: Yeah, exactly.You know, and it's this amazing where this guy is realizing his wife, their relationship is not what he thought it was, whatever. But then the story ends, does he really change? Like, do they just go on and have the same marriage after that point? We don't know. I mean, Joyce avoids that question by having the story end. But, so you might say, you know, novelists like epiphanies and they're good at writing epiphanies and producing epiphanies and imagining that their readers will have epiphanies. And then there's a question, okay, how valuable is the epiphany? And I think, not nothing. I wouldn't put it at zero, but you might say, okay, but let's compare the epiphany and the argument, right? So, what philosophers and the social scientists have, what we have is arguments. And who's ever been changed by an argument? And I think I would say all of human history has been changed by arguments and it's pretty much the only thing that's ever done anything to stably change us is arguments. If you think about, like, what are the things we've moved on? What are the things we've come around on? You know, human rights, there's a big one. That's not a thing in antiquity. And it's a thing now. And I think it's a thing because of arguments. Some of those arguments, you know, are starting to come in their own in religious authors, but then really come in, the flourishing is really the enlightenment. And so you might think, well, maybe an argument is not the kind of thing that can change very easily an adult who was already pretty set in their ways and who is not going to devote much of their time to philosophizing. It isn't going to give them the kind of passionate feeling of your life has suddenly been turned around by an epiphany, but it might well be that if we keep arguing with each other, that is how humanity changes.Henry: I think a lot of the arguments were put into story form. So like the thing that changed things the most before the enlightenment maybe was the gospels. Which is just lots of stories. I know there are arguments in there, but basically everything is done through stories. Or metaphor, there's a lot of metaphor. I also think philosophers are curiously good at telling stories. So like some of the best, you know, there's this thing of micro fiction, which is like very, very short story. I think some of the best micro fiction is short stories. Is a thought experiment, sorry. Yeah. So people like Judith Jarvis Thompson, or well, his name has escaped my head, Reasons and Persons, you know who I mean? Derek Parfit, right. They write great short stories. Like you can sit around and argue about long-termism with just propositions, and people are going to be either like, this makes total sense or this is weird. And you see this when you try and do this with people. If you tell them Parfit's thought experiment that you drop a piece of glass in the woods, and a hundred years later, a little girl comes in and she cuts up. Okay, everyone's a long-termist in some way now. To some extent, everyone is just like, of course. Okay, fine. The story is good. The famous thought experiment about the child drowning in the pond. And then, okay, the pond is like 3000. Again, everyone's like, okay, I get it. I'm with you. Philosophers constantly resort to stories because they know that the argument is, you have to have to agree with you. You've got to have the argument. The argument's the fundamental thing. But when you put it in a story, it will actually, somehow it will then do its work.Agnes: I think it's really interesting to ask, and I never asked myself this question, like what is the relationship between a thought experiment and a story? And I think that, I'm fine with a thought experiment with saying it's a kind of story, but I think that, so one feature of a thought experiment is that the person who is listening to it is given often a kind of agency. Like, which way do you push the trolley? Or do you care that you left this piece of glass there? Or are you, suppose that the pond was so many miles away but there was a very long hand that reached from here and you put a coin in the machine and at the other end, the hand will pull the child out of the water. Do you put the coin in, right? So like you're given these choices. It's like a choose your own adventure story, right? And that's really not what Tolstoy wrote. He really did not write choose your own adventure stories. There's a, I think he is-Henry: But the philosopher always comes in at the end and says, by the way, this is the correct answer. I'm giving you this experiment so that you can see that, like, I'm proving my point. Peter Singer is not like, it's okay if you don't want to jump into the pond. This is your story, you can pick. He's like, no, you have to jump in. This is why I'm telling you the story.Agnes: That's right, but I can't tell it to you without, in effect, your participation in the story, without you seeing yourself as part of the story and as having like agency in the story. It's by way of your agency that I'm making your point. Part of why this is important is that otherwise philosophers become preachers, which is what Tolstoy is when he's kind of at his worst. That is, you know, the philosopher doesn't just want to like tell you what to think. The philosopher wants to show you that you're already committed to certain conclusions and he's just showing you the way between the premises you already accept and the conclusion that follows from your premises. And that's quite-Henry: No, philosophers want to tell you the particular, most philosophers create a thought experiment to be like, you should be a virtue ethicist or you should give money away. Like they're preaching.Agnes: I don't think that is preaching. So I think that, and like, I think that this is why so many philosophical thought experiments are sort of meant to rely on what people call intuitions. Like, oh, but don't you have the intuition that? What is the intuition? The intuition is supposed to be somehow the kind of visceral and inchoate grasp that you already have of the thing I am trying to teach you. You already think the thing I'm telling you. I'm just making it clear to you what you think. And, you know, like there's like, I want to go back to the gospels. Like, I think it's a real question I have. I'm going to get in trouble for saying this, but I feel like something I sometimes think about Jesus and I say this as a non-Christian, is that Jesus was clearly a really exceptional, really extraordinary human being. And maybe he just never met his Plato. You know, he got these guys who are like telling stories about him. But like, I feel like he had some really interesting thoughts that we haven't accessed. Imagine, imagine if Socrates only ever had Xenophon. You know, if Socrates had never met Plato. We might just have this story about Socrates. Oh, he's kind of like a hero. He was very self-sacrificing. He asked everyone to care about everybody else. And he might like actually look quite a bit like Jesus on a sort of like, let's say simplistic picture of him. And it's like, maybe it's a real shame that Jesus didn't have a philosopher as one of the people who would tell a story about him. And that if we had that, there would be some amazing arguments that we've missed out on.Henry: Is Paul not the closest thing to that?Agnes: What does he give us?Henry: What are the arguments? Well, all the, you know, Paulian theology is huge. I mean, all the epistles, they're full of, maybe, I don't know if they're arguments more than declarations, but he's a great expounder of this is what Jesus meant, you should do this, right? And it's not quite what you're saying.Agnes: It's conclusions, right?Henry: Yes, yes.Agnes: So I think it's like, you could sort of imagine if we only had the end of the Gorgias, where Socrates lists some of his sayings, right? Yes, exactly, yes. You know, it's better to have injustice done to you than to do injustice. It's better to be just than to appear just. Oratories should, you should never flatter anyone under any circumstances. Like, you know, there's others in other dialogues. Everyone desires the good. There's no such thing as weakness of will, et cetera. There are these sort of sayings, right? And you could sort of imagine a version of someone who's telling the story of Socrates who gives you those sayings. And yeah, I just think, well, we'd be missing a lot if we didn't hear the arguments for the sayings.Henry: Yeah, I feel stumped. So the next thing you say about novelists, novelists give us a view onto the promised land, but not more. And this relates to what you're saying, everything you've just been saying. I want to bring in a George Eliot argument where she says, she kind of says, that's the point. She says, I'm not a teacher, I'm a companion in the struggle of thought. So I think a lot of the time, some of the differences we're discussing here are to do with the readers more than the authors. So Tolstoy and George Eliot, Jane Austen, novelists of their type and their caliber. It's like, if you're coming to think, if you're involved in the struggle of thought, I'm putting these ideas in and I'm going to really shake you up with what's happening to these people and you're going to go away and think about it and Pierre's going to stay with you and it's really going to open things up. If you're just going to read the story, sure, yeah, sure. And at the end, we'll have the big revelation and that's whoopee. And that's the same as just having the sayings from Socrates and whatever. But if you really read Middlemarch, one piece, whatever, Adam Bede is always the one that stays with me. Like you will have to think about it. Like if you've read Adam Bede and you know what happens to Hetty at the end, this has the, oh, well, I'm not going to spoil it because you have to read it because it's insane. It's really an exceptional book, but it has some of those qualities of the thought experiment. She really does put you, George Eliot's very good at this. She does put you in the position of saying like, what actually went right and wrong here? Like she's really going to confront you with the situation but with the difficulty of just saying, oh, you know, that's easy. This is what happened. This is the bad thing. Well, there were several different things and she's really putting it up close to you and saying, well, this is how life is. You need to think about that.Agnes: So that last bit, I mean, I think that this is how life is part. Yeah. Really do think that that's something you get out of novels. It's not, so here's how you should live it or so here's why it makes sense, or here are the answers. It's none of the answers, I think. It's just that there's a kind of, it's like, you might've thought that given that we all live lives, we live in a constant contact with reality but I think we don't. We live in a bubble of what it's, the information that's useful to me to take in at any given moment and what do I need in order to make it to the next step? And there's a way in which the novel like confronts you with like the whole of life as like a spectacle or something like that, as something to be examined and understood. But typically I think without much guidance as to how you should examine or understand it, at least that's my own experience of it is that often it's like posing a problem to me and not really telling me how to solve it. But the problem is one that I often, under other circumstances, I'm inclined to look away from and the novelist sort of forces me to look at it.Henry: Does that mean philosophers should be assigning more fiction?Agnes: I, you know, I am in general pretty wary of judgments of that kind just because I find it hard to know what anyone should do. I mean, even myself, let alone all other philosophers.Henry: But you're the philosopher. You should be telling us.Agnes: No, I actually just don't think that is what philosophers do. So like, it was like a clear disagreement about, you know, is the, like George Eliot's like, I'm not a teacher, but the philosopher also says I'm not a teacher. I mean, Tolstoy was like, I am a teacher.Henry: Yeah, I'm a teacher.Agnes: I'm ready to guide you all.Henry: You should take notes.Agnes: But I think it's right that, yeah. So I think it's like, you know, maybe they have some other way of forcing that confrontation with reality. But I, my own feeling is that philosophers, when they use examples, including some of the thought experiments, it's sort of the opposite of what you said. It's kind of like they're writing very bad fiction. And so they'll come up with these, like I am philosophy. We have to, we're forced to sort of come up with examples. And, you know, I discuss one in my aspiration book of, oh, once upon a time, there was a guy. And when he was young, he wanted to be a clown, but his family convinced him that he should be an investment banker and make money. And so he did that. But then when he was older, he finally recovered this long lost desire. And then he became a clown and then he was happy. It's a story in an article by a philosopher I respect. Okay, I like her very much. And I haven't read it in a long time. So I'm hoping I'm summarizing it correctly. But my point is like, and this is supposed to be a story about how sort of self-creation and self-realization and how you can discover your authentic self by contrast with like the social forces that are trying to make you into a certain kind of person. But it's also, it's just a very bad piece of fiction. And I'm like, well, you know, if I'm say teaching a class on self-creation as I do sometimes, I'm like, well, we can read some novelists who write about this process and they write about it in a way that really shows it to us, that really forces us to confront the reality of it. And that story was not the reality. So if you have some other way to do that as a philosopher, then great. I'm very instrumental about my use of fiction, but I haven't found another way.Henry: Which other fiction do you use in the self-creation class?Agnes: So in that class, we read Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend. And we also read some Fernando Pessoa.Henry: Pessoa, what do your students think of Pessoa?Agnes: They love it. So when I first assigned it, I'm like, I don't know what you guys are going to make of this. It's kind of weird. We're reading like just, you know, 20 pages of excerpts I like from the Book of Disquiet. I mean, it's like my own text I'm creating, basically. I figure with that text, you can do a choose your own adventure. And they like it a lot. And I think that it really, that, you know, the thing that really resonates with them is this stuff where he talks. So there are two passages in particular. So one of them is, one where he talks about how he's like, yeah, he meets his friend. And he can't really listen to what his friend is saying, but he can remember with photographic precision the lines on the face when he's smiling, or like, it's like what he's saying is, I'm paying attention to the wrong thing. Like I'm paying attention to the facial expressions and not to the content. And that I'm somebody who's in a world where my organization of my own experience is not following the rules that are sort of being dictated to me about how my experience is supposed to be organized. And that's sort of his predicament. So that's a thing that they like. And then there's a wonderful passage about how I keep trying to free myself from the social forces oppressing me. And I take away this noose that's around my neck. And as I'm doing it, I realize my hand is attached to a noose and it's pulling me. Like I'm the one who's doing, I'm the one who's suffocating myself all along when I'm trying to free myself from social forces, it's me who's doing the oppressing. Anyway, so those are some passages that we talk about that they like. They like it a lot. They have a lot less trouble making something of it than I had expected that they would.Henry: Is this because he, is he well-suited to the age of social media and phones and fragmented personalities and you're always 16 different people? Is it that kind of thing?Agnes: Partly it's the short texts. I mean, as I said, meeting a problem, right? And so, yeah. So like they like Nietzsche too, probably for the same reason, right? I mean, anything where the-Henry: The aphorism.Agnes: Yeah, exactly. Like no joke. You know, it's not the era for War and Peace. It's the era for the Nietzschean aphorism.Henry: This is so depressing. I thought this wasn't true.Agnes: Yeah, I think it's true. I like, I had a conversation with a student in my office yesterday about this and about how like just his own struggles with reading and how all his friends have the same problem. And, you know, I have made some suggestions and I think maybe I need to push them harder in terms of, you know, just university creating device-free spaces and then people having like, I think we have to view it the way we view exercise. Like none of us would exercise if we didn't force ourselves to exercise. And we use strategies to do it. Like, you know, you have a friend and you're going to go together or, you know, you make a habit of it or whatever. I mean, like, I think we just have to approach reading the same way. Just let's accept that we're in an environment that's hostile to reading and make it a priority and organize things to make it possible rather than just like pretending that there isn't a problem. But yeah, there is. And it's hard for us to see. So you're not as old as me, but I'm old enough that all of my reading habits were formed in a world without all of this, right? So of course it's way easier for me. Even I get distracted, but, you know, for me spending a couple of hours in the evening reading, that's like a thing I can do. But like a lot of people, okay, I was at a like tech, in a little tech world conference in California. And it was early in the morning and my husband wasn't awake yet. So I was just, and it was one of these conferences where there's like a little group room and then you have your own, like we had like a hotel room type room, but like then I would had to be in the room with my husband who was sleeping. I couldn't turn the light on. So it was early. I woke up at four. So I went to the group room just to read. And I'm sitting there reading and someone came up to me and they were like, I can't believe you're just sitting there like reading. I don't think I've seen someone read a book in, you know, he's like ever or something, maybe. I mean, he's a half my age. Like he's like, that's just not a thing that people do. And it was like, he's like, it's so on brand that you're reading, you know? But it's like, it's, I think it's just, it's much harder for people who have grown up with all of this stuff that is in some way hostile to the world of reading. Yeah, it's much harder for them than for us. And we should be reorganizing things to make it easier.Henry: Yeah, I get that. I'm just, I'm alarmed that they can't read, like the depth of Ivan Ilyich. It's like, I don't know, it's like 50 pages or.Agnes: Yeah, for one class, no.Henry: It's very short. It's very short.Agnes: That's not short. 50 pages is not short.Henry: It's an hour or two hours of reading.Agnes: It's like, yeah, between two and three. They also read slower because they don't read as much.Henry: Okay, but you know what I'm like…Agnes: Yeah, right, three hours of reading is a lot to assign for a class. Especially if, in my case, I always also assign philosophy. So it's not the only thing I'm assigning.Henry: Sure, sure, but they read the philosophy.Agnes: Same problem. I mean, it's not like some different problem, right? Same problem, and in fact, they are a little bit more inclined to read the fiction than the philosophy, but the point is the total number of pages is kind of what matters. And from that point of view, philosophy is at an advantage because we compress a lot into very few pages. So, but you know, and again, it's like, it's a matter of like, it's probably not of the level. So I can, you know, I can be more sure that in an upper level class, students will do the reading, but I'm also a little bit more inclined to assign literature in the lower level classes because I'm warming people up to philosophy. So, yeah, I mean, but I think it is alarming, like it should be alarming.Henry: Now, one of the exciting things about Open Socrates, which most people listening to this would have read my review, so you know that I strongly recommend that you all read it now, but it is all about dialogue, like real dialogue. And can we find some, you know, I don't want to say like, oh, can we find some optimism? But like, people are just going to be reading less, more phones, all this talk about we're going back to an oral culture. I don't think that's the right way to phrase it or frame it or whatever, but there's much more opportunity for dialogue these days like this than there used to be. How can Open Socrates, how can people use that book as a way of saying, I want more, you know, intellectual life, but I don't want to read long books? I don't want to turn this into like, give us your five bullet points, self-help Socrates summary, but what can we, this is a very timely book in that sense.Agnes: Yeah, I kind of had thought about it that way, but yeah, I mean, it's a book that says, intellectual life in its sort of most foundational and fundamental form is social, it's a social life, because the kinds of intellectual inquiries that are the most important to us are ones that we can't really conduct on our own. I do think that, I think that some, there is some way in which, like as you're saying, novels can help us a little bit sort of simulate that kind of interaction, at least some of the time, or at least put a question on the table. I sort of agree that that's possible. I think that in terms of social encounters doing it, there are also other difficulties though. Like, so it's, we're not that close to a Socratic world, just giving up on reading doesn't immediately put us into a Socratic world, let's put it that way. And for one thing, I think that there really is a difference between face-to-face interaction, on the one hand, where let's even include Zoom, okay, or phone as face-to-face in an extended sense, and then texting, on the other hand, where text interaction, where like texting back and forth would be, fall under texting, so would social media, Twitter, et cetera, that's sort of- Email. Email, exactly. And I'm becoming more, when I first started working on this book, I thought, well, look, the thing that Socrates cares about is like, when he says that philosophy is like, you know, when he rejects written texts, and he's like, no, what I want to talk back, I'm like, well, the crucial thing is that they can respond, whether they respond by writing you something down or whether they respond by making a sound doesn't matter. And I agree that it doesn't matter whether they make a sound, like for instance, if they respond in sign language, that would be fine. But I think it matters that there is very little lag time between the responses, and you never get really short lag time in anything but what I'm calling face-to-face interaction.Henry: Right, there's always the possibility of what to forestall on text. Yeah. Whereas I can only sit here for like 10 seconds before I just have to like speak.Agnes: Exactly, and I mean, 10 seconds, that's a wild exaggeration. So do you know what the actual number is? No. On average. Okay, the average amount of time that you're allowed to wait before responding to something I say is two tenths of a second, which, it's crazy, isn't it? Which, that amount of time is not enough time for, that is a one second pause is an awkward pause, okay? So two tenths of a second is not long enough time for the signal that comes at the end of my talking, so the last sound I make, let's say, to reach your ears and then get into your brain and be processed, and then you figure out what you want to say. It's not enough time, which means you're making a prediction. That's what you're doing when I'm talking. You're making a prediction about when I'm going to stop talking, and you're so good at it that you're on almost every time. You're a little worse over Zoom. Zoom screws us up a little bit, right? But this is like what our brains are built to do. This is what we're super good at, is kind of like interacting, and I think it's really important that it be a genuine interaction. That's what I'm coming to see, is that we learn best from each other when we can interact, and it's not obvious that there are those same interaction possibilities by way of text at the moment, right? I'm not saying there couldn't be, but at the moment, we rely on the fact that we have all these channels open to us. Interestingly, it's the lag time on the phone, like if we were talking just by phone, is about the same. So we're so good at this, we don't need the visual information. That's why I said phone is also face-to-face. I think phone's okay, even though a lot of our informational stream is being cut. We're on target in terms of the quick responses, and there's some way in which what happens in that circumstance is we become a unit. We become a unit of thinking together, and if we're texting each other and each of us gets to ponder our response and all that, it becomes dissociated.Henry: So this, I do have a really, I'm really interested in this point. Your book doesn't contain scientific information, sociological studies. It's good old-fashioned philosophy, which I loved, but if you had turned it into more of a, this is the things you're telling me now, right? Oh, scientists have said this, and sociologists have said that. It could have been a different sort of book and maybe been, in some shallow way, more persuasive to more people, right? So you clearly made a choice about what you wanted to do. Talk me through why.Agnes: I think that it's maybe the answer here is less deep than you would want. I think that my book was based on the reading I was doing in order to write it, and I wasn't, at the time, asking myself the kinds of questions that scientists could answer. Coming off of the writing of it, I started to ask myself this question. So for instance, that's why I did all this reading in sociology, psychology, that's what I'm doing now is trying to learn. Why is it that we're not having philosophical conversations all the time? It's a real question for me. Why are we not having the conversations that I want us to be having? That's an empirical question, at least in part, because it's like, well, what kinds of conversations are we having? And then I have to sort of read up on that and learn about how conversation works. And it's surprising to me, like the amount of stuff we know, and that it's not what I thought. And so I'm not, maybe I'm a little bit less hostile than most philosophers, just as I'm less hostile to fiction, but I'm also less hostile to sort of empirical work. I mean, there's plenty of philosophers who are very open to the very specific kind of empirical work that is the overlap with their specialization. But for me, it's more like, well, depending on what question I ask, there's just like, who is ready with answers to the question? And I will like, you know, kind of like a mercenary, I will go to those people. And I mean, one thing I was surprised to learn, I'm very interested in conversation and in how it works and in what are the goals of conversation. And of course I started with philosophical stuff on it, you know, Grice and Searle, speech act theory, et cetera. And what I found is that that literature does not even realize that it's not about conversation. I mean, Grice, like the theory of conversational implicature and you know, Grice's logic on conversation, it's like if you thought that making a public service announcement was a kind of conversation, then it would be a theory of conversation. But the way that philosophers fundamentally understand speech is that like, you know, speakers issue utterances and then somebody has to interpret that utterance. The fact that that second person gets to talk too is not like part of the picture. It's not essential to the picture. But if you ask a sociologist, what is the smallest unit of conversation? They are not going to say an assertion. They're going to say something like greeting, greeting or question answer or command obeying or, right? Conversation is like, there's two people who get to talk, not just one person. That seems like the most obvious thing, but it's not really represented in the philosophical literature. So I'm like, okay, I guess I got to say goodbye philosophers. Let me go to the people who are actually talking about conversation. You know, I of course then read, my immediate thought was to read in psychology, which I did. Psychology is a bit shallow. They just don't get to theorize. It's very accessible. It's got lots of data, but it's kind of shallow. And then I'm like, okay, the people who really are grappling with the kind of deep structure of conversation are sociologists. And so that's what I've been reading a lot of in the past, like whatever, two months or so. But I just wasn't asking myself these questions when I wrote the book. And I think the kinds of questions that I was asking were in fact, the kinds of questions that get answered or at least get addressed in philosophical texts. And so those were the texts that I refer to.Henry: So all the sociology you've read, is it, how is it changing what you think about this? Is it giving you some kind of answer?Agnes: It's not changing any, my view, but any of the claims in the book, that is the exact reason that you brought out. But it is making me, it's making me realize how little I understand in a sort of concrete way, what like our modern predicament is. That is, where are we right now? Like what's happening right now? Is the question I ask myself. And I get a lot of, especially in interviews about this book, I get a lot of like, well, given where things are right now, is Socrates very timely? Or how can Socrates help or whatever? And I'm like, I don't think we know where things are right now. That is that given that, where is it? Where is it that we are? And so part of what this kind of sociology stuff is making me realize is like, that's a much harder question than it appears. And even where do we draw the lines? Like, when did now start happening? Like my instinct is like, one answer is like around 1900 is when now started happening. And, and so like, so I guess I'm interested both at the very micro level, how does the conversational interaction work? What are the ways in which I am deciding in this very conversation, I'm deciding what's allowed to be in and what's not allowed to be in the conversation, right? By the moves I'm making, and you're doing the same. How are we doing that? How are we orchestrating, manipulating this conversation so as to dictate what's in it and what's out of it in ways that are like below the surface that we're not noticing, that we either that we are doing it or that we're doing it ourselves. Neither of us is noticing, but we're doing that. So that's at the micro level. And then at the macro level is the question about when did now start happening? And what are the big shifts in like the human experience? And, are we at a point somehow in human history where culture like as a mechanism of coordination is a little bit falling apart and then what's going to come next? That's like a kind of question that I have to put in that kind of vague way. So maybe the right thing to say is that reading all these sociology texts has like, has given me a sets of questions to ask. And maybe what I'm trying to do is, it's like, what my book does is it describes a kind of ideal. And it describes that ideal, you know, using the power of reason to see what would it take to sort of set us straight? What is the straightened version of the crooked thing that we're already doing? And I think that that's right, but that's not at all the same thing as asking the question like, what's our next step? How do we get there from here? That's the question I'm asking now. But part of trying to answer the question, how do we get there from here is like, where are we now? And where are we both very, very locally in an interaction, what are we doing? And then in a big picture way, where are we? What is the big, what is like, you know, in the Taylor Swift sense, what era are we in? And, you know, I guess I still feel like we are, we are living in the world of Fernando Pessoa, Robert Musso, Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, Hermann Bruch, Franz Kafka, like that set of writers, like around 1900-ish set of writers who didn't all know each other or anything, didn't coordinate, but they all, there was this like primal scream moment where they were like, what the hell is going on? What has happened to humanity? Where are the rules? Like, who are we supposed to be? I mean, of all of those, I would pull out Musso as like the paradigm example. So this is me, I guess, taking inspiration from literature again, where I feel like, okay, there's something there about we're lost. There's an expression of, there's a thought we're lost. And I'm trying to understand, okay, how did we get lost? And are we still in that state of being lost? I think yes. And let's get a clear, once we get very clear on how lost we are, we'll already start to be found. Cause that's sort of what it is to, you know, once you understand why you're lost, like that's situating yourself.Henry: Those writers are a long time ago.Agnes: Yeah, I said around 1900.Henry: Yeah, but you don't, you don't, but there's nothing more recent that like expresses, like that's a very long now.Agnes: Yeah. Well, yes, I agree. So I say, when did now start happening? I think it started happening around 1900. So I think-Henry: So are we stuck?Agnes: Yeah, kind of. I think, so here's like a very, he's like a very simple part of history that must be too simple because history is not, is like, it's very mildly not my strong suit. I can't really understand history. But it's like, there is this set of writers and they don't really tell stories. It's not their thing, right? They're not into plot, but they are issuing this warning or proclamation or crisis, like flashing thing. And then what happens? What happens after that? Well, World War I happens, right? And then, you know, not very long after that, we got World War II and especially World War II, the result of that is kind of, oh no, actually we know what good and bad are. It's like fighting Nazis, that's bad. And, you know, so we got it all settled. And, but it's like, it's like we push something under the rug, I guess. And I think we haven't dealt with it. We haven't dealt with this crisis moment. And so, you know, I think I could say something very similar about Knausgaard or something that is, I think he's kind of saying the same thing and his novel has a novel, whatever you want to call it, the, you know, I'm talking about the later one. That's the kind of weird sort of horror quadrilogy or something. It has this feeling of like trying to express a sense of being lost. So there's more recent stuff that, a lot of it's autofiction, the genre of autofiction has that same character. So yeah, like maybe there is some big progress that's been made since then, but if there is, then it has passed me by.Henry: Agnes: Callard, thank you very much. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.commonreader.co.uk/subscribe

“Na floresta do alheamento” é um dos escritos da Parte II - Grandes Trechos, de O Livro do Desassossego, de Fernando Pessoa. A Parte I - Diário de Bernardo Soares, é atribuída ao seu semi-heterônimo e desta, já realizamos um episódio. Ao longo da vida, Fernando Pessoa publicou apenas doze trechos do Livro do Desassossego. O primeiro foi “Na Floresta do Alheamento”, na revista A Águia, em agosto de 1913. O livro é um incrível diário íntimo, poético, metafísico e psicológico do autor português. “Na floresta” traz uma cadência de palavras arrebatadoras, de ampla beleza natural: “(…) instantes flores, minutos árvores (…) e do perfume de flores, e de perfume do nome de flores” entrecruzadas com as verdades internas de um homem, mas também de uma mulher, posto que ele a percebe avistando a floresta junto de si. O que é muito curioso, pois ‘alheamento' vem de alhear-se, que é verbo pronominal: 4. Tornar-se alheio ou indiferente a tudo; ficar como fora de si. = desinteressar-se; 5. Apartar-se, desviar-se. É deste momento em diante que o narrador migra da primeira pessoa do singular: “Sei que despertei e que ainda durmo”, para a primeira pessoa do plural: “Passeávamos às vezes, braço dado, sob os cedros e as olaias e nenhum de nós pensava em viver”. Ele descreve um jardim - que chama de “nosso” e é como se conciliasse a verdade de que nenhuma pessoa é um único ser, mas está em construção constante com outros, detentor de todos os gêneros. Boa leitura!Conheça o #Desenrole seu Storytelling, curso de Daiana Pasquim:⁠⁠⁠⁠https://bit.ly/desenrolecomleitura⁠⁠⁠⁠Para adquirir o Trincas e/ou o Verde Amadurecido, escreva para leituradeouvido@gmail.com

Uma artista a falar das suas paixões, uma poeta a falar de arte. Quem conhece a Sónia enquanto leitora? Que boa conversa, cheia de entrega, pedaços de livros e óptimas recomendações de leitura.Os livros que a também actriz escolheu:Contos completos, Lydia Davis;⁠O acto criativo, um modo de ser, Rick Rubin;⁠A Papoila e o Monge, do José Tolentino Mendonça;⁠Apenas Miúdos, da Patti Smith.Outras referências:Paulo Leminski;Fernando Pessoa;Cartas a um jovem poeta, Rilke.A colecção de poesia que a Sónia está a traduzir:Pieces of a song, Diane di Prima.Os livros que escreveu (Editora Mercúrio Ondulado):Constelação;Rosa.O que recomendei:Trevo, Amalia Bautista.O que ofereci:Vidro, ironia e Deus, Anne Carson.Os livros aqui:www.wook.pt

Sê rei de si próprio como alguém que guia o próprio destino, sem desalinho naquilo que crê. Acompanha Fernando Pessoa a obra Honor Him de Hans Zimmer. Escute o episódio da semana. Obrigado.

A delegação em França da Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian faz 60 anos e o programa de aniversário apoia vários eventos com artistas lusófonos. Há parcerias com o Festival de Avignon, o Festival de Outono, o Théâtre de la Ville de Paris e a Bienal de Dança de Lyon, mas há, também, dois novos festivais: um de músicas da diáspora ("Lisboa nu bai Paris") e outro de dança, filme e artes visuais ("Les Jardins de l'Avenir"). Na prática, a agenda cultural francesa vai contar, ao longo do ano, com nomes como Marlene Monteiro Freitas, Tânia Carvalho, Vera Mantero, Joana Craveiro, Dino D'Santiago, Branko, Maro, Camané, Mário Laginha, B Fachada e muitos mais. O programa foi apresentado esta segunda-feira, no Théâtre de la Ville, em Paris, por Miguel Magalhães, director da delegação em França da Fundação Gulbenkian. Há teatro e dança, com Marlene Monteiro Freitas, Tânia Carvalho, Vera Mantero e Joana Craveiro, música com Dino D'Santiago, Branko, Maro, Camané, Mário Laginha e B Fachada. Há, ainda, cinema, conferências, residências e exposições, entre muitos eventos.Um dos momentos centrais é o apoio ao espectáculo de Marlene Monteiro Freitas que vai abrir a edição deste ano do Festival de Avignon, dirigido pelo português Tiago Rodrigues. A peça vai estar, mais tarde, no Festival de Outono, em Paris, com o qual a delegação francesa da Gulbenkian volta a colaborar. Além da programação de Marlene Monteiro Freitas nesse festival, há, ainda, um espectáculo de dança de Tânia Carvalho e Israel Galvan e outra performance encenada por Tânia Carvalho com alunos dos conservatórios de Paris e Lyon em torno do centenário de Pierre Boulez.No Théâtre de la Ville - Sarah Bernhardt, a Gulbenkian vai apoiar o festival de artes do palco Chantiers d'Europe, que nesta edição reúne artistas de sete países, incluindo de Portugal. A 9 de Junho, o Théâtre de la Ville –Sarah Bernhardt, é palco de um encontro entre música clássica e fado tradicional, com a Orquestra Filarmónica Portuguesa, Camané e Mário Laginha. O autor e compositor B Fachada sobe a palco a 5 de Junho no Théâtre de la Ville-Les Abbesses. De 10 a 15 de Junho, Joana Craveiro apresenta-se, pela segunda vez, neste festival, agora com a peça de teatro “Intimidades com a Terra”. Na dança, Tânia Carvalho e um bailarino do Ballet National de Marselha / (La) Horde sobem ao palco a 28 e 29 de Junho.Ainda no Théâtre de la Ville - Sarah Bernhardt, em Maio e Setembro, estão previstas leituras, encontros e criações em torno da obra que, em 1972, abalou e foi proibida pela ditadura - “Novas Cartas Portuguesas” - de Maria Isabel Barreno, Maria Teresa Horta e Maria Velho da Costa. A delegação em França da Gulbenkian também apoiou uma nova tradução para francês da obra, por Ilda Mendes dos Santos e Agnès Levecot, a qual chega às livrarias a 18 de Abril.A 7 e 8 de Junho, no Parque Enclos Calouste Gulbenkian, em Deauville, acontece a primeira edição de “Les Jardins d'Avenir”, um festival entre dança, filme e artes visuais. Nestes jardins, vão ser apresentadas, por exemplo, a peça “L'oracle végétal” das coreógrafas Ola Maciejewska e Vera Mantero e a performance participativa de Ana Rita Teodoro e Alina Folini. Há, ainda, uma projeção de filmes de Jorge Jácome e Ana Vaz e obras plásticas de Christodoulos Panayotou e Elsa Sahal.A encerrar o programa de aniversário, está o festival de músicas urbanas de inspiração africana “Lisboa nu bai Paris”, comissariado por Dino D'Santiago e que vai decorrer na Gaité Lyrique, em Paris, no final do ano.Nas artes visuais, a delegação promove várias residências artísticas e curatoriais em França para artistas e comissários lusófonos. Este ano, por exemplo, a artista moçambicana Lizette Chirrime vai estar três meses em Paris no âmbito do programa Gulbenkian -Thanks for Nothing.Para reforçar a divulgação da criação portuguesa em França, a delegação continua o programa “Expositions Gulbenkian”, um apoio que se destina às instituições culturais que pretendam mostrar artistas portugueses.A Biblioteca Gulbenkian de Paris vai organizar, ainda, conferências e jornadas de estudo em torno dos 500 anos do nascimento de Luís de Camões. Por outro lado, a realizadora francesa Claire Denis está a preparar um filme sobre a “Ode Marítima” de Fernando Pessoa.A agenda dos 60 anos conta, também, com o lançamento do podcast “Parcours d'artistes”, uma série sobre histórias de artistas portugueses que viveram ou vivem entre Paris e Lisboa.

A delegação em França da Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian faz 60 anos e o programa de aniversário apoia vários eventos com artistas lusófonos. Há parcerias com o Festival de Avignon, o Festival de Outono, o Théâtre de la Ville de Paris e a Bienal de Dança de Lyon, mas há, também, dois novos festivais: um de músicas da diáspora ("Lisboa nu bai Paris") e outro de dança, filme e artes visuais ("Les Jardins de l'Avenir"). Na prática, a agenda cultural francesa vai contar, ao longo do ano, com nomes como Marlene Monteiro Freitas, Tânia Carvalho, Vera Mantero, Joana Craveiro, Dino D'Santiago, Branko, Maro, Camané, Mário Laginha, B Fachada e muitos mais. O programa foi apresentado esta segunda-feira, no Théâtre de la Ville, em Paris, por Miguel Magalhães, director da delegação em França da Fundação Gulbenkian. Há teatro e dança, com Marlene Monteiro Freitas, Tânia Carvalho, Vera Mantero e Joana Craveiro, música com Dino D'Santiago, Branko, Maro, Camané, Mário Laginha e B Fachada. Há, ainda, cinema, conferências, residências e exposições, entre muitos eventos.Um dos momentos centrais é o apoio ao espectáculo de Marlene Monteiro Freitas que vai abrir a edição deste ano do Festival de Avignon, dirigido pelo português Tiago Rodrigues. A peça vai estar, mais tarde, no Festival de Outono, em Paris, com o qual a delegação francesa da Gulbenkian volta a colaborar. Além da programação de Marlene Monteiro Freitas nesse festival, há, ainda, um espectáculo de dança de Tânia Carvalho e Israel Galvan e outra performance encenada por Tânia Carvalho com alunos dos conservatórios de Paris e Lyon em torno do centenário de Pierre Boulez.No Théâtre de la Ville - Sarah Bernhardt, a Gulbenkian vai apoiar o festival de artes do palco Chantiers d'Europe, que nesta edição reúne artistas de sete países, incluindo de Portugal. A 9 de Junho, o Théâtre de la Ville –Sarah Bernhardt, é palco de um encontro entre música clássica e fado tradicional, com a Orquestra Filarmónica Portuguesa, Camané e Mário Laginha. O autor e compositor B Fachada sobe a palco a 5 de Junho no Théâtre de la Ville-Les Abbesses. De 10 a 15 de Junho, Joana Craveiro apresenta-se, pela segunda vez, neste festival, agora com a peça de teatro “Intimidades com a Terra”. Na dança, Tânia Carvalho e um bailarino do Ballet National de Marselha / (La) Horde sobem ao palco a 28 e 29 de Junho.Ainda no Théâtre de la Ville - Sarah Bernhardt, em Maio e Setembro, estão previstas leituras, encontros e criações em torno da obra que, em 1972, abalou e foi proibida pela ditadura - “Novas Cartas Portuguesas” - de Maria Isabel Barreno, Maria Teresa Horta e Maria Velho da Costa. A delegação em França da Gulbenkian também apoiou uma nova tradução para francês da obra, por Ilda Mendes dos Santos e Agnès Levecot, a qual chega às livrarias a 18 de Abril.A 7 e 8 de Junho, no Parque Enclos Calouste Gulbenkian, em Deauville, acontece a primeira edição de “Les Jardins d'Avenir”, um festival entre dança, filme e artes visuais. Nestes jardins, vão ser apresentadas, por exemplo, a peça “L'oracle végétal” das coreógrafas Ola Maciejewska e Vera Mantero e a performance participativa de Ana Rita Teodoro e Alina Folini. Há, ainda, uma projeção de filmes de Jorge Jácome e Ana Vaz e obras plásticas de Christodoulos Panayotou e Elsa Sahal.A encerrar o programa de aniversário, está o festival de músicas urbanas de inspiração africana “Lisboa nu bai Paris”, comissariado por Dino D'Santiago e que vai decorrer na Gaité Lyrique, em Paris, no final do ano.Nas artes visuais, a delegação promove várias residências artísticas e curatoriais em França para artistas e comissários lusófonos. Este ano, por exemplo, a artista moçambicana Lizette Chirrime vai estar três meses em Paris no âmbito do programa Gulbenkian -Thanks for Nothing.Para reforçar a divulgação da criação portuguesa em França, a delegação continua o programa “Expositions Gulbenkian”, um apoio que se destina às instituições culturais que pretendam mostrar artistas portugueses.A Biblioteca Gulbenkian de Paris vai organizar, ainda, conferências e jornadas de estudo em torno dos 500 anos do nascimento de Luís de Camões. Por outro lado, a realizadora francesa Claire Denis está a preparar um filme sobre a “Ode Marítima” de Fernando Pessoa.A agenda dos 60 anos conta, também, com o lançamento do podcast “Parcours d'artistes”, uma série sobre histórias de artistas portugueses que viveram ou vivem entre Paris e Lisboa.

Nos volvemos a encontrar con el escritor portugués.

Collage · Fernando Pessoa, Portugals bekanntester Schriftsteller und rätselhaftes Genie, hat zu Lebzeiten nur wenige Texte veröffentlicht. In seiner Truhe aber lagerten 24.000 Fragmente. Poetische Miniaturen, die Kai Grehn zu einem Hörspiel verdichtet hat, eingesprochen und musikalisch untermalt von Robert Gwisdek aka Käptn Peng und Shaban. | Von Fernando Pessoa und Kai Grehn | Mit Robert Gwisdek | Aus dem Portugiesischen: Inés Koebel | Konzept und Realisation: Kai Grehn | Komposition: Shaban | Special Guests: Claudia Graue, Käptn Peng | BR/RB 2019 | Podcast-Tipp: "Der Zauberberg" Thomas Manns Jahrhundertroman als 10-teiliges Hörspiel: https://1.ard.de/mann_derzauberberg

Que maravilha de conversa. A curiosidade enorme que o Carlos tem por tudo faz dele a pessoa e o leitor que é. E que, com tanta generosidade e simpatia genuína, dá a conhecer neste episódio. Vale a pena.Os livros que o jornalista, tradutor e editor escolheu:A Sibila, Agustina Bessa-Luís;As Viagens de Gulliver, Jonathan Swift;O Aleph, Jorge Luís Borges;Mrs. Dalloway, Virgínia Woolf;O Processo, Franz Kafka;Os Passos em Volta, Herberto Helder;O Grande Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald;O Livro do Desassossego, Fernando Pessoa.Outras referências:Amor de Perdição, Camilo Castelo Branco;A editora: Livros Zigurate (zigurate.pt)Press reader: a App que referiu com assinatura de vários jornais.O site para pesquisa do Desassossego, de Fernando Pessoa: ldod.uc.ptLivro do Pedro Sena-Lino cujo nome não se lembrava: Despaís.Os livros de entrevistas que publicou:Pessoal e... transmissível;XX-XXI;MPB.pt - música popular brasileira.Os episódios deste Podcast que recomendei:Episódio Juan Gabriel Vásquez (T3 #32)Episódio Pedro Sena-Lino: (T2 #22)O que ofereci:El-Rei Eclipse, Biografia de D. João V, Pedro Sena-Lino.Os livros aqui:www.wook.pt

Jacke's been trying to come to grips with Portuguese modernist poet Fernando Pessoa ever since Harold Bloom named him one of the 26 most influential writers in the entire Western canon. But it's not easy! As a young man, Pessoa wanted to be, in his words, "plural like the universe," and he carried this out in his poetry: writing verse in the style of more than one hundred fictional alter-egos that he called heteronyms. In this episode, Pessoa expert Bartholomew Ryan, author of Fernando Pessoa: A Critical Life, joins Jacke for a discussion of Pessoa's profound, endlessly innovative ideas. PLUS renowned scholar Robin Waterfield (Aesop's Fables: A New Translation) joins Jacke for a discussion of the last book he will ever read. Additional listening: 643 Aesop and His Fables (with Robin Waterfield) 398 Fernando Pessoa 138 Why Poetry (with Matthew Zapruder) The music in this episode is by Gabriel Ruiz-Bernal. Learn more at gabrielruizbernal.com. Help support the show at patreon.com/literature or historyofliterature.com/donate. The History of Literature Podcast is a member of Lit Hub Radio and the Podglomerate Network. Learn more at thepodglomerate.com/historyofliterature. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Francesco Zambon"I trovatori di Dante"Andrea Molesini Editore Veneziawww.molesinieditore.it«Poco vale ricchezzaSe la si usa a casaccioSenza legge e diritto!»Traduzione di Francesco ZambonCon un saggio di Claudia Di FonzoPer nessun “sì” darei il vostro “no”,Perciò muto sovente riso in pianto;Del mio dolore come un folle godoE della morte, se vi guardo in viso.E come il basilisco che con gioiaSi uccide contemplandosi allo specchio,Così voi siete per me specchio: quandoVi vedo e vi contemplo mi uccidete.Dante conobbe bene la poesia in lingua d'oc, una delle tre lingue – con la lingua d'oil e la lingua del sì, francese e italiano – che formano quello che egli definisce l'ydioma tripharium. Ed essi costituirono uno dei suoi modelli poetici fondamentali, dalla giovanile Vita nuova fino alla Commedia. Nel suo trattato di poetica, il De vulgari eloquentia, Dante cita a diverso titolo ben undici componimenti di sei trovatori diversi; alcuni testi sono allegati come esempi metrici o retorici, altri come espressione dei tre temi o materie da lui distinti nella poesia lirica: armi, rettitudine e amore. Nella Commedia, poi, egli mette in scena alcuni di questi poeti, ripartendoli calcolatamente nelle tre cantiche: nell'Inferno è collocato Bertran de Born, poeta delle armi, fra i seminatori di discordia; nel Purgatorio Arnaut Daniel, poeta dell'amore profano, fra i lussuriosi; nel Paradiso infine Folquet de Marselha (Folco), poeta della fede e dell'amore divino dopo aver cantato quello per le donne, fra gli spiriti amanti. E le parole che gli rivolge Arnaldo sono addirittura in lingua occitana, unico caso di discorso in lingua non italiana presente nel poema. Dante riprese inoltre in Al poco giorno e al gran cerchio d'ombra la forma metrica inventata da Arnaut Daniel, la sestina, che avrebbe avuto in seguito un immenso successo in tutte le letterature europee. Questo volume riunisce tutti i componimenti citati da Dante nel De vulgari eloquentia (oltre a una canzone di Peire d'Alvernhe e alla sestina di Arnaut, che egli imitò direttamente). Rispetto alle precedenti e analoghe sillogi di Chaytor, di Monaci e di Folena, essi sono qui per la prima volta accompagnati da una traduzione che, pur nella fedeltà al testo originale, ne rispetta rigorosamente le misure metriche.Francesco Zambon è professore emerito di Filologia romanza presso l'Università degli Studi di Trento. Studioso di fama internazionale, ha indagato su numerosi aspetti della letteratura allegorica e religiosa del medioevo latino e romanzo (bestiari, mito del Graal, trovatori, eresia catara, mistica amorosa). Ha scritto anche su alcuni poeti italiani ed europei contemporanei, fra cui Montale, Pascoli, Pasolini, Pierro, Ceronetti, Zanzotto e Pessoa. Con questa casa editrice ha pubblicato L'iride nel fango. L'anguilla di Eugenio Montale (2022), curato Messaggio di Fernando Pessoa (2022) e tradotto L'altra metà del sogno mi appartiene, vol. I, di Alicia Gallienne (2023).Claudia Di Fonzo è medievista e in particolare studiosa di Dante, cui ha dedicato numerose monografie e saggi. Da diversi anni si è specializzata, a proposito di Dante e di altri autori, sul rapporto fra diritto e letteratura, materia che insegna presso l'Università di Trento. Fra le sue pubblicazioni spiccano la prima edizione critica de L'ultima forma dell'«Ottimo commento» all'Inferno (Longo 2008) e diverse monografie su Dante e la cultura medievale (Dante e la tradizione giuridica, Carocci 2016; Scale e tribunali dell'aldilà, Longo 2022; Albedo iustitiae. Il peccato ermafrodito e altre questioni di diritto e letteratura, Ed. dell'Orso 2023).IL POSTO DELLE PAROLEascoltare fa pensarewww.ilpostodelleparole.itDiventa un supporter di questo podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/il-posto-delle-parole--1487855/support.

Neste terceiro episódio da série "Quanto Tempo o Tempo Tem?", os professores Pedro Guimarães e Marcelo Silveira convidam você a refletir sobre o enigma do tempo que "passa sem percebermos". Por que temos a sensação de que alguns momentos são tão breves enquanto outros parecem intermináveis? Com base em uma perspectiva filosófica, o episódio explora a relação entre atenção, concentração e o fluxo do tempo em nossas vidas. Como a dispersão e o automatismo afetam nossa percepção temporal? E como o cultivo de valores duradouros pode nos ajudar a encontrar um "ponto de centro", vivendo o tempo com maior consciência e significado? Entre os temas discutidos, destaca-se a ideia de "duração", inspirada na etimologia latina, e como a atenção direcionada pode transformar a maneira como vivemos as experiências do dia a dia. O episódio também propõe práticas simples para melhorar a concentração e entender as prioridades que realmente importam. Encerrando com o poema "Ao longe, ao luar", de Fernando Pessoa, os professores nos convidam a contemplar as realidades subjetivas do tempo e a importância de vivê-lo com propósito e serenidade. Participantes: Pedro Guimarães e Marcelo Silveira Trilha Sonora: Autoria de Mário André, voluntário da Nova Acrópole Link para episódio anterior: https://nova-acropole.org.br/podcast/quanto-tempo-o-tempo-tem-tenho-pouco-tempo-para-resolver-tudo/ Poesia: "Ao longe, ao luar", de Fernando Pessoa Ao longe, ao luar, No rio urna vela Serena a passar, Que é que me revela? Não sei, mas meu ser Tornou-se-me estranho, E eu sonho sem ver Os sonhos que tenho. Que angústia me enlaça? Que amor não se explica É a vela que passa Na noite que fica.

Neste segundo episódio da série “Quanto Tempo o Tempo Tem?”, os professores Pedro Guimarães e Marcelo Silveira convidam você a refletir sobre a percepção do tempo em nossas vidas.  Com uma abordagem filosófica, eles questionam: será que o tempo é realmente rápido ou devagar, ou somos nós que, ao perdermos a atenção no momento presente, deixamos a vida passar despercebida? O ritmo da vida, dizem os professores, não é dado pelo tempo em si, mas pela maneira como direcionamos nossa consciência e ações. Entre os temas discutidos, destaca-se a importância de encontrar nosso ponto de realidade: onde estamos colocando nossa atenção e como isso afeta nossas escolhas? Ao refletir sobre essas questões, podemos aprender a dar mais sentido e cadência à vida. Este episódio ainda traz uma inspiração poética com o poema “Vive, dizes, no Presente” de Fernando Pessoa, que nos convida a um olhar mais profundo sobre o tempo e a vida. Não perca a continuidade dessa reflexão! No próximo episódio, abordaremos: “Nossa, meu tempo já passou? Nem vi passar!”. Participantes: Pedro Guimarães e Marcelo Silveira Trilha Sonora: Autoria de Mário André, voluntário da Nova Acrópole Acesse o link do Episódio Anterior - https://nova-acropole.org.br/podcast/quanto-tempo-o-tempo-tem-tempo-o-misterio-da-vida/ Confira a Poesia Completa - Vive, dizes, no presente - Fernando Pessoa  Vive, dizes, no presente; Vive só no presente. Mas eu não quero o presente, quero a realidade; Quero as coisas que existem, não o tempo que as mede. O que é o presente? É uma coisa relativa ao passado e ao futuro. É uma coisa que existe em virtude de outras coisas existirem. Eu quero só a realidade, as coisas sem presente. Não quero incluir o tempo no meu esquema. Não quero pensar nas coisas como presentes; quero pensar nelas como coisas. Não quero separá-las de si-próprias, tratando-as por presentes. Eu nem por reais as devia tratar. Eu não as devia tratar por nada. Eu devia vê-las, apenas vê-las; Vê-las até não poder pensar nelas, Vê-las sem tempo, nem espaço, Ver podendo dispensar tudo menos o que se vê. É esta a ciência de ver, que não é nenhuma.

This podcast episode is part of Afar, A Retrospective. As part of Afar's 15-year anniversary celebration, this episode from our sister podcast, Travel Tales by Afar, was selected as one of our favorites. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do—and stay tuned for more archival Travel Tales episodes from September - December 2024. Explore more of our favorite stories over the years at afar.com/fifteen. Two months after her house burned down, Afar sent the award-winning author of Miss Burma, Charmaine Craig, to Lisbon, Portugal, with 24 hours' notice. Without a plan, Charmaine aimlessly follows tourists through cobbled streets before stumbling upon the grave of one of the country's most beloved authors: Fernando Pessoa. Following in his footprints, her trip transforms into a poetic journey through loss, impermanence, and hope.  Portugal's Elusive Poet: Fernando Pessoa In this episode discover:  The world's oldest bookstore, Livraria Bertrand.   How Portugals' streets recovered after fire and earthquakes.  Where to follow Francis Pessoa's legacy in Lisbon.  Twin Flames, Twin Houses Don't miss these transformative moments:  [01:39] Lost history and landing in Lisbon.  [05:02] Meeting Francis Pessoa: a master poet of impermanence.  [08:00] Echoes of destruction, from L.A. to Lisbon.  A Literary Adventure in Lisbon The only book Charmaine Craig brought to Lisbon was The Book of Disquiet by Francis Pessoa. Though she knew the author lived in Lisbon,Charmaine didn't expect to stumble upon his tomb in her first 24 hours. In this episode, an unplanned trip to Portugal becomes a deeply personal, poetic tour through grief, impermanence, and hope.  Resources:  Read Charmaine's original story.  Visit Charmaine's website and buy her books, Miss Burma and My Nemesis. Plan a trip to Lisbon with Afar with content like the best things to do and see or these guides to the perfect day or weekend.

durée : 00:27:19 - Les Midis de Culture - par : Marie Labory - Au programme du débat critique, du théâtre et de la danse : "Pessoa Since I've been me" de Bob Wilson et "Thisispain" de Hillel Kogan. - réalisation : Laurence Malonda - invités : Marie Sorbier Rédactrice en chef de I/O et productrice du "Point Culture" sur France Culture; Victor Inisan Docteur en études théâtrales, dramaturge et critique

durée : 00:10:47 - L'Avant-scène - par : Aurélie Charon - Le poète portugais Fernando Pessoa accompagne la comédienne Maria de Medeiros depuis toujours. Elle l'incarne dans la dernière création du metteur en scène américain Bob Wilson. - réalisation : Alexandre Fougeron - invités : Maria de Medeiros Comédienne, chanteuse

1917 - Fernando Pessoa, el hombre de los más de 70 heterónimos y el desasosiego, está, justamente, en un momento de ese tipo, frecuentes, en él, y le escribe a su amigo poeta Mario de Ca Carneiro, que había muerto hace casi un año, la siguiente carta. Un espacio de Bárbara Espejo.

Let's delve into the enigmatic world of Western esotericism through the lens of Fernando Pessoa, my favourite poet and a fascinating figure in both literature and esoteric thought. Pessoa's unique approach to esotericism, embodied through his famous heteronyms, presents a multifaceted exploration that challenges traditional perspectives on spirituality, philosophy, and identity. We'll start by situating Pessoa in the broader academic discourse on esotericism, examining Antoine Faivre's foundational model and Wouter Hanegraaff's expanded definitions. We then explore how Pessoa's heteronyms—distinct personas like Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis, and Álvaro de Campos—each offer a unique esoteric worldview, from naturalistic pantheism to mystical modernism, showcasing a plurality of voices that embody different spiritual paths. In addition, we'll uncover Pessoa's complex relationship with the notorious occultist Aleister Crowley, highlighting how their collaboration at the Boca do Inferno became a legendary event, blending real life and esoteric performance. CONNECT & SUPPORT

Today's guest fell through and I did a solo podcast. If you listen to all of this you are my best friend. Readings: The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann Dracula, Bram Stoker "The Call of Cthulhu", H.P. Lovecraft Moby-Dick, Herman Melville "Alberto Caiero XXVI", Fernando Pessoa

Nicolas Barral est auteur, scénariste et dessinateur de romans graphiques. Avec son style et sa sensibilité, il livre à chaque fois des albums plein d'humour, de tendresse et d'intelligence. Dans son dernier livre "L'intranquille Monsieur Pessoa" il nous raconte les derniers jours d'un auteur ô combien passionnant et pourtant méconnu du grand public, Fernando Pessoa. Alors dans cet épisode, il nous parle de son enfance biensur, mais aussi des rencontres qui ont été décisives dans sa vie, sans oublier la place qu'à le Portugal dans sa vie aujourd'hui. Il nous raconte les différentes facettes de son métier, dessinateur et scénariste, ou encore comment il est tombé un jour nez à nez avec une photo de Fernando Pessoa, qui semblait presque le mettre au défi.Tout cela et bien plus encore, c'est à découvrir dans ce merveilleux épisode, fort et tranquille comme l'est Nicolas Barral.Bonne écoute!Générique composé par le formidable Jean Thévenin.

En esta emisión/episodio exploramos "El Libro de Desasosiego de Fernando Pessoa, que en realidad se debió haber llamado el libro de Des-asombro ya que descubrimos por qué la maravilla de la vida se desvanece y la rutina se apodera de nuestras vidas. Lo cual según Pessoa no es necesariamente algo malo. De cierta manera Fernando Pessoa nos demuestra como el es miserable pero le gusta. También discutimos un poco sobre la obra Metamorfosis de Franz Kafka. Y otras obras incluyendo The Curse de Nathan Fielder y Emma Stone, y Beau is Afraid. Obras que tienen un tema en común aunque no lo parezca. Acompañenme a explorar los pensamientos sucios de un tipo muy aburrido. #literatura #musica #podcast #mexico #cine #television #Arte Kafka on the shore Musica/Temas Usados: Toy Selectah-Dime Juanpalitoschinos-Una Vez Más Mexican Lofi beats Macross FM 82-99

durée : 00:29:59 - Les Nuits de France Culture - par : Albane Penaranda - Un livre, des voix… "Le Livre de l'Intranquillité" de Fernando Pessoa par Etienne Valles, avec Françoise Laye, traductrice, et des extraits lus par Philippe Caulet. - réalisation : Virginie Mourthé - invités : Fernando Pessoa Écrivain portugais (1888-1935)

El escritor valenciano Paco Cerdà si que estuvo presente en la Biblioteca de Antonio  Martínez Asensio en  Hoy por Hoy, y no ausente como José Antonio Primo de Rivera ,  protagonista de su nueva novela "Presentes" (Alfaguara). El ya conocido como nuevo exponente de la no ficción española publica una novela sobre el traslado del cadáver del fundador de falange entre Alicante y El Escorial en noviembre de 1939. Fue el mayor acto de propaganda del régimen franquista. Once día , diez noches y 467 kilómetros a pie para trasladar el cuerpo del mártir del franquismo por territorios que hacía pocos meses eran afines al bando republicano.  Paco Cerdá juega con ese tiempo para contarnos lo que ocurría en aquella procesión nacional y a la vez las vivencias de los perdedores en el exilio, las cárceles, los trabajos forzados , las torturas o los fusilamientos. Las dos españas en 11 días de noviembre de 1939. Paco Cerdà, además de su libro, nos donó otros dos para la biblioteca radiofónica: "Llibre de merevelles" de Andrés Estellés (Editado por Tres i Quatre ) "El libro del desasosiego" de Fernando Pessoa (Seix Barral). También han entrado en nuestra colección los libros de actualidad de Antonio Martínez Asensio  "Doña Bárbara" de Rómulo Gallegos (Cátedra) , "La historia de un muro" de Nasser Abu Srour (Galaxia Gutemberg). En cuanto a novedades Pepe Rubio nos trajo "Como un latido en un micrófono" de Clara Queraltó (Anagrama) y "Mapas y perros" de Unai Elorriaga (Plasson and Bartlebom) . El libro perdido en la redacción lo rescató Brian Pérez y fue  "Como anillo al cuello" de Purificació Mascarell (Editado por Ariel). "Un libro, una hora" nuestro programa hermano de la SER nos donó "Moby Dick" de Herman Melville (Anaya) y , por último, los oyentes donaron "La hora de la cerveza" de Anthony Burgess (Alfaguara) y "Como una novela" de Daniel Pennac (Anagrama) 

Francesco Zambon"Zefiro zero"Guido RainerMolesini Editorewww.molesinieditore.itOgni cosa è senza scopo ma è avvincente perché la viviamo.In tutto il libro Rainer sviluppa un'osservazione minuziosa ed esatta delle cose, degli animali, degli uomini, dei fenomeni naturali: un'osservazione che tenta di coglierne i soprassalti segreti, la verità più intima, il momento epifanico se non proprio teofanico. Oggetto di questa amorosa o spietata osservazione sono soprattutto i personaggi di cui abbonda il libro e ai quali sono dedicati talvolta dei veri e propri racconti in nuce. Sono personaggi storici o letterari (come Pilato, Belisario, Didone, La moglie di Lot), ma anche uomini e donne del presente, a cominciare dai famigliari più stretti: padre, madre, nonna, zia Mebel. La realtà è infatti per Rainer un immenso libro, un immenso manoscritto: le metafore tratte dalla scrittura sono in lui frequentissime e rinviano appunto all'idea che la vera poesia, la poesia assoluta per così dire, sta nelle cose. Ecco che un venditore di sementi e pistacchi «si accovaccia in un punto di domanda», che gli uccelli che si alzano in volo sono «schiere di penne, di emme, enne». Il compito del navigatore-poeta sarà allora quello di cercare di decifrare questo linguaggio della natura, semicancellato e muto per molti, forse per i più, e di tradurlo nella nostra lingua; sarà insomma quello di «tendere l'arco dello stile al semplice / dire di ogni giorno».Dal saggio introduttivo di Francesco Zambon.Guido Rainer (Alessandria d'Egitto 1964) discende da una famiglia di marinai. Il suo bisnonno, Guglielmo Rainer, è stato un contrammiraglio della Regia Marina italiana durante la Grande Guerra. Dopo essersi diplomato al liceo francese di Alessandria d'Egitto, dove la famiglia si era trasferita vent'anni prima per ragioni di lavoro, a 19 anni è «scappato di casa» per un dissidio di cui non ama parlare e si è stabilito in un'isola della laguna di Venezia dedicandosi alla pesca. Ora vive a Cefalonia, fa lo skipper e organizza crociere nelle acque dello Ionio e dell'Egeo. Nel tempo libero, quando non legge – «la cosa che mi piace di più» – frequenta balere. «Il mare, la poesia e il ballo sono tutta la mia vita».Francesco Zambon (Venezia 1949) è professore emerito di Filologia romanza presso l'Università di Trento. Studioso di fama internazionale, ha indagato su numerosi aspetti della letteratura allegorica e religiosa del medioevo latino e romanzo (bestiari, mito del Graal, trovatori, eresia catara, mistica). Ha scritto inoltre su alcuni poeti italiani ed europei contemporanei. Con questa casa editrice ha pubblicato L'iride nel fango. L'anguilla di Eugenio Montale, tradotto Messaggio di Fernando Pessoa e L'altra metà del sogno mi appartiene di Alicia Gallienne.IL POSTO DELLE PAROLEascoltare fa pensarewww.ilpostodelleparole.itDiventa un supporter di questo podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/il-posto-delle-parole--1487855/support.

On this week's show, June Thomas (co-host of Slate's Working podcast and the author of A Place of Our Own) sits in for Julia Turner. The panel first explores The Bear, now in its third season, and questions whether Christopher Storer's beast has become too self-aware. Then, they discuss Fancy Dance, a profoundly moving film by Native writer-director Erica Tremblay starring Lily Gladstone that's equal parts road movie, crime procedural, and family drama. Finally, the trio dives deep into their personal relationships with app culture, inspired by Mark Hill's essay for Slate, “I'm Tired of Using An App For Everything.” In the exclusive Slate Plus segment, the panel answers a listener question from James: “As you get older, how do you keep yourself open to new interests, experiences, and ideas? To put it negatively, how do you avoid becoming an old crank?” Email us at culturefest@slate.com.  Endorsements: June: A particularly moving video that's making the rounds on social media, in which a large crowd of supporters gather at Carmarthen Railway in Wales to send off Plaid's Anne Davies and sing her the Welsh national anthem.  Steve: "I Know It's Over" by The Smiths.  Dana: Patti Smith reading Fernando Pessoa (or to be more precise, Álvaro de Campos) at the Casa Fernando Pessoa museum in Lisbon.  Podcast production by Jared Downing. Production assistance by Kat Hong.  Hosts Dana Stephens, June Thomas, Stephen Metcalf Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On this week's show, June Thomas (co-host of Slate's Working podcast and the author of A Place of Our Own) sits in for Julia Turner. The panel first explores The Bear, now in its third season, and questions whether Christopher Storer's beast has become too self-aware. Then, they discuss Fancy Dance, a profoundly moving film by Native writer-director Erica Tremblay starring Lily Gladstone that's equal parts road movie, crime procedural, and family drama. Finally, the trio dives deep into their personal relationships with app culture, inspired by Mark Hill's essay for Slate, “I'm Tired of Using An App For Everything.” In the exclusive Slate Plus segment, the panel answers a listener question from James: “As you get older, how do you keep yourself open to new interests, experiences, and ideas? To put it negatively, how do you avoid becoming an old crank?” Email us at culturefest@slate.com.  Endorsements: June: A particularly moving video that's making the rounds on social media, in which a large crowd of supporters gather at Carmarthen Railway in Wales to send off Plaid's Anne Davies and sing her the Welsh national anthem.  Steve: "I Know It's Over" by The Smiths.  Dana: Patti Smith reading Fernando Pessoa (or to be more precise, Álvaro de Campos) at the Casa Fernando Pessoa museum in Lisbon.  Podcast production by Jared Downing. Production assistance by Kat Hong.  Hosts Dana Stephens, June Thomas, Stephen Metcalf Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

13 de junho é a data de dois dos maiores filhos de Portugal na história: Santo António de Pádua - Pádua é o lugar da Itália onde escolheu viver -, um dos santos mais evocados do Catolicismo, e Fernando Pessoa, o poeta da imaginação transbordante e que mudou a poesia em português.

O programa em português que foi ao ar na frequência da rádio SBS 2 na Austrália. Hoje falamos sobre a cidadania australiana, tão sonhada para muita gente. Há quem diga que não vale tanto a pena o trabalho para conquistá-la, a partir das mudanças que dificultam para os estudantes chegarem lá. Discutimos os prós e contras. De Portugal, o correspondente Francisco Sena Santos nos conta que o país deixa agora de ter fronteiras totalmente abertas a migrantes. É a grande discussão política no momento. Também nos conta que este sábado foi celebrado em todo o país dois grandes portugueses: Santo António, um dos católicos mais evocados pelos fiéis, e o poeta Fernando Pessoa. Sena também conversou com um cientista alemão que implementa em Portugal um modelo australiano de permacultura. E sabe que significa estar em um relacionamento “de facto” na Austrália? Na hora de emigrar, pode haver uma confusão quanto ao seu status conjugal, e há diferenças jurídicas de estado para estado. Explicaremos.

Ao vivo na Casa de Francisca para o Festival Feminino em 21 maio de 2024 Com Patricia Palumbo, Felipe Catto e Assucena. Uma performance poética a partir da perspectiva e do olhar da mulher sobre seu próprio corpo, seu estar no mundo e a liberdade de ser o que é. Uma seleção de textos e poemas sobre o desejo e o erotismo. O padrão como discurso de poder. Manifesto Corpo Liberto - Assucena Poemas de Hilda Hilst, Maria Isabel, Ana Cristina Cesar, Safo, Angélica Freitas, Fernando Pessoa, Lana Del Rey, Rupi Kaur, Ricardo Domeneck, Anne Sexton, Maya Angelou. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/peixe-voador/message

Fidèle à son engagement en faveur de la littérature et de la création contemporaine, CHANEL renouvelle son soutien au festival MOT pour Mots organisé par Le Monde, Le Nouvel Obs et Télérama. À l'occasion de l'ouverture de la quatrième édition du festival, l'ambassadrice et porte-parole de la Maison Charlotte Casiraghi a retrouvé les autrices Sarah Chiche et Aurélie Lacroix pour une édition spéciale des Rendez-vous littéraires rue Cambon animée par Elisabeth Philippe, journaliste au Nouvel Obs. Ensemble, elles ont parlé d'écriture et de la place de la littérature dans leur vie.© Festival MOT pour Mots.Les Enténébrés, Sarah Chiche, © Éditions du Seuil, 2019, Points, 2020.Saturne, Sarah Chiche, © Éditions du Seuil, 2020, Points, 2021.Les Alchimies, Sarah Chiche, © Éditions du Seuil, 2023, Points, 2024.© Éditions du Seuil.Aurélie Lacroix, L'Unique objet de mon regard, 2023, © Éditions Cambourakis. © Rencontres Philosophiques de Monaco© Le Nouvel ObsSarah Chiche, L'Inachevée, 2008, © Éditions Grasset & Fasquelle.Hervé Guibert, Fou de Vincent, 1989, © Les Éditions de Minuit.© Éditions GrassetAnnie Ernaux, Passion Simple, 1991, © Éditions Gallimard.Joan Didion : Le Centre ne tiendra pas, Griffin Dunne, © Didion Doc, Netflix, 2017.Joan Didion, L'année de la pensée magique © 2005 © Editions Grasset & Fasquelle, 2007, pour la traduction françaiseThe Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion. Copyright © 2005 by Joan Didion. Published by HarperCollins Publishers. All Rights Reserved.Fernando Pessoa, Le Livre de l'intranquillité, Traduit en français par Françoise Laye, © Christian Bourgois Editeur, 1988.Fernando Pessoa, Livro do Desassossego, 1990, © Grupo Editorial Presença. All Rights Reserved.Ann Veronica Janssens, Mukha, 1997. All Rights Reserved.© KHM-MuseumsverbandLéon Tolstoï, Anna Karénine, 1873Albert Cohen, Belle du Seigneur, 1968, © Éditions Gallimard.Edith Wharton, Le temps de l'innocence, 1920Laurence Plazenet, La blessure et la soif, 2009, © Éditions Gallimard.Francisco de Goya, Les Désastres de la guerre, 1810-1815Francisco de Goya, Le Chien, 1819-1823Francisco de Goya, Le sommeil de la raison engendre des monstres, 1799Madame de La Fayette, La Princesse de Clèves, 1678Alfred de Musset, On ne badine pas avec l'amour, 1861

Jupiter begins its year-long transit through Gemini on May 25, 2024, so we turned it into a Serendipity Session! We riff on a specific yet understated theme that Jupiter in Gemini is likely to expose: the need to transcend opposing forces. The world is seen through a binary lens in many ways. Gemini will highlight the contradictions, juxtapositions, dichotomies, contrast, and duality that's present in so many aspects of our lives. But Jupiter has an ability to create a mystical union when faced with opposites. Resources mentioned in this episode include: Doppelgänger by Naomi KleinThe Book of Disquiet by Fernando PessoaDialectical Materialism*******************************About The Serendipity Sessions:We began The Serendipity Sessions as a series in the Clairannoyance podcast so we could have real-time unscripted conversations. Unlike our subject-specific deep dives and guest interview episodes, The Serendipity Sessions is a raw reflection of the genuine bond we share. We have no rules and no episode notes in advance, just a free-flowing exchange of thoughts and emotions. It's an exploration of the outer banks of consciousness where untamed treasures are hidden away. We believe one sudden insight can hold immense value, far beyond most meticulously planned discussions. Each session is a unique encounter with chance as we defy routine and enjoy a spontaneous dance with spirituality. We aim to keep these episodes as evergreen as possible, so you can find your way here whenever you need to. And hopefully, you'll encounter pieces of yourself every time you join us.*******************************P.S. Rate us 5 stars please and leave us a review! It helps so much!*******************************Podcast & Host Resources:Clairannoyance InstagramClairannoyance TikTokClairannoyance WebsiteMegan's InstagramMegan's TikTokMegan's WebsiteRyan's InstagramRyan's TikTokRyan's Website

Séptimo capítulo de la serie dedicada a la poesía de autor y su presencia en el flamenco con las voces de Calixto Sánchez y Vicente Soto sobre textos Antonio Machado y Fernando Pessoa.Escuchar audio